Rant

I get so tired of people talking about my cannabis use. All your money goes to weed, you get high and eat all the food and that's why your fat, whenever I say I have no money it's because obviously j spent it all on weed which isn't the case. I usually spend about 45 bucks a week give or take some weeks depending on the weed itself and the stress I'm under. Some people spend money on beer, liquor, cigarettes, soft drinks, energy drinks, lortery.... what is the difference between the two.  My vice is illegal. That's the only difference. People get all judgy, high and mighty. It just ticks me off. I try to be open about what I do, normalize it if you will and still the tone of voice people use is demeaning. Whether they realize it or not. I get put down on a lot of things. Most times they don't realize they are even doing it because of how we were all raised and how our family functions.  And then sometimes it's done on Purpose to hurt. I won't lie, my weight gain is a huge issue, and I know some of that is the weed that is best for me also makes me hungry as fuck. I'm trying to practise mindful eating and mindfulness in all of my actions and activities some are easier than others.  Now that mom is feeling better she's more forceful, more dominating. Her moods are more perceptible to me and I pay so much attention to her that I get stuck in my head. For instance she saw the car had trash in it. Only behind the passenger seat because that's where I put it and when I clean it out it's just there. She disapproves of trash in the car, of dishes in the sink of trash...ugh. she's so picky. And I just keep feeling exhuasted, run down and over anxious. I sometimes feel the only way I can take care of me and put myself first is if I could live on my own. My own space. I feel guilty for feeling that way. But it is what it is. Money is a terrible thing and my relationship with it and fast food is an issue. But anyway. All for now.

Too much

There's always so much to do. And I always feel like I HAVE to do it all. I know I don't but if I don't who will? Im on the edge but it's not critical, it's not do or die yet and I'm doing all I can to keep from getting that close. To avoid the desperation that comes with the over whelming aspect of it all. I'm praying and hoping we get a two bedroom at the end of the month. I miss a bed,  I miss my own space.

My roller coaster.

Boiling, rising, piercing. Millions of needles beneath my skin. Defenses are high, senses are heightened, shield of lies, hiding behind a facade of normality and improvement. Inside black as night, full of monsters, trembling to fight.  To fight the good that might be left, to leave the wolf broken and bereft; of all the love and all the light.

Despair begins to waken, the darkness and demons demand it. It rises, pooling out through her mind and body. It paralyzes, it brings panic to the brim, then something deep and dark. Darker than all that came before. Ruthless, guiltless, emotionless save for one. Anger. Anger breathes deeply and the monsters vanish. Anger, stretches, flexes, and demons meld away. Anger burns.  Electric blue flame, weaving, erratic like lightening. It's contagious, it's spreads, hungry, anything to feed.

Anger is eternal, it courses through her body, devouring any it wills. Anger never dies. Anger never dies. Anger. Never. Dies.