Brittanica: Encyclopedia of My Life

2012 was the year i said the f-word on purpose.

relationships are about as easy as cleaning a crock pot.

self-inflicted pain and suffering

i walk around like a sparrow with a broken wing, comparing myself to all the other pretty sparrows that can fly. i absorb every mean thing that’s thrown my way, and never pay mind to anything kind that ever comes my way. in one ear and out the other with those sweet words.

my heart is turned cold and bitter to the point where it hurts to love, live, and be happy. i was hurt and i can’t let go. and when i try, satan jumps right back in there to fill the hole that’s now lacking the pain. i’ve become callused; resistant to love and joy and God’s peace He wants for me.

where do i go from here? you’d think any direction would be up, but having this grossly misused and self-tortured heart makes it anything but susceptible to change.

my hair is falling out. i have chronic laryngitis. my glands are swollen. my heart is heavy with jealousy and rage. i hate my face (reference the MTV hit show “True Life:I Hate My Face”). all of this is built up in me from a tiny seed planted and watered by satan himself. 

i feel like i can’t win. and when i try and realize how great my life is, and how joyful i should be, i start to get angry with myself for not being able to appreciate all the beautiful and wonderful things and people that were put in my life. 

i’m almost too broken now to recover. maybe cutting myself off for a while would be best. 

i don’t know what to do. i just want to stop crying all the time. and looking at pictures of the girls who got what i wanted. or words of the people who took what i wanted from me. it’s poison that i take with excitement and pride along with my anti-depressants and tramadol.

i’ll take the pain of piercings and tattoos over this hurt any day.