Random Thoughts

I like rivers/oceans/any body of water. It was my birthday. It was hot. But no one asked me.  I must be an awful person. 

The thing I always think will happen. Although it hasn’t taken the form of complete abandonment (mostly, some are completely absent in my life, people who I thought were friends for life); no it hasn’t been complete abandonment. I’m just not anyone’s favorite. I figured I wasn’t really worthy. M likes me but is that necessity? Because I’ve thrust myself into her life so thoroughly and am so helpful? Helpful to the point of it being weird to others? Or because I can drink with her? I don’t know. I guess everyone else grew up, got goals and lifes. I can’t keep up with some. As I was always afraid of, being the fattest person ever has finally stunted me. I used to be all fuck you! I can do anything! Now I’m tired and sore and don’t want to do anything. I’m still Ben’s favorite I think. But I wonder if that’s necessity too? Because I am a godawful person. I tell myself lies so I can be delusional. I’m funny to the point of being caustic. I’m far too open and say anything. My crazy ...

It’s come to my attention more and more often lately that someone has an opinion about my life and my living situation. Not just one person. A lot of people would pass judgement. Here’s the thing. I have complaints and gripes. But overall? It’s kind of my own machinations. If I don’t have huge issues in my relationship, why does it bother you? I haven’t been, nor will ever be, dependent on a man. I suppose when my leg was broken I had to depend. And I do lean on him. A lot. But I’m not dependent. And that seems to drive some others crazy. I don’t know why. They assume I need more help? Would I like more help? I suppose so. But apparently my complaints lead my friends to believe I would be better off with a man’s income. I’m not sure how every woman I know isn’t aware how I need to not be reliant or dependent on someone else. I’m not sure how my relationship (which is very long running) is a source of debate when I LIKE being around my person still. 17 years in (almost). I like...

I finally cut off ties with my mother. She could snail mail or maybe even email me but she won’t. I know this. Which means I’m officially free to talk here about my shit. Which I’m starting to think is necessary so that I might perhaps survive a little longer. I’m not anonymous this much anywhere else. Maybe I need to open the wounds and expel the poison. I’ve never done well with psychiatrists I was appointed to. Maybe obstinacy along with the very real fear that it would all come out and my mother would blame me. You see she already had. Once while drunk my mother told me that she bet I liked it. The only and I mean only way I’ve ever seen this is as her saying she knew what her husband was doing and assumed I must like it or I’d say something. A common issue. Blame the victim for liking it or wanting it or being a tease. I don’t doubt she has her own issues. I just wish that I could have been born to someone who put her kids at the front. My kid, while not rich, has been given...

I’ve been chubby since I was a child. My awful stepfather asked me once if I wanted to lose ten ugly pounds quickly and when I eagerly said yes (after seeing my mother gloat over her weight loss, after hearing about it from everywhere – because it is everywhere. The diet industry is making bank, y’all.); he told me to cut off my head and then laughed. When I realized I weighed more than my mom in middle school, I started to realize that I was going to be the fat one. The fat friend. The fattest person in the group. The one who’d be so pretty if I just lost some weight. I felt unattractive and ate mostly things like hamburger helper and less of the homemade foods. We were all about convenience in my house growing up. I’ve been yelled at on the street walking places, every doctor I see seems to feel the need to tell me I’m fat..like I don’t know? I suppose some of that is my fault. Because when I gave up hope on ever being thin and pretty; I just stopped talking about it. I st...