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White it OUT



Again, bad news on a Friday. Comes in many forms. E-mail, phone call, snail mail. Result is always the same. Wait til Monday or later next week. Get nauseous. React. Do what you can to deal with it, although knowing nobody will see your e-mail or get your voicemail until Monday. Then try to forget. White it out. 3 1/2 years of this. Just go blank. You have no control. You are at the whims of another who would just as soon see you dead. Only that would be too easy because you already wish for that. They want to see you suffer instead. I imagine he must have ripped the limbs off of small animals as a boy.

Find your favourite drugs. Drug the panic to oblivion. Drink it to numbness. Just don't freak out. That just has you standing on the edge of the rooftop. You have the kids this week because the MF lost his job and feels entitled to a vacation. Hah - I'll probably end up paying for it. HAve a wonderful fucking time. Wish I could go on holiday. But there's nowhere I could go that would be far enough. Just act normal. Be there for the kids. Act happy for them. Pretend nothing's wrong even though you are screaming inside. In spite of the drugs that knocked you out last night, you still have nightmares. He's driving. The end of the road. Through a field. Speeding. Turns to trees. No matter, still speeding we manage to miss them all. Woops - a beach, a lake. Fuck it - just keep going. Straight into the lake. But the car doesn't sink. Drowning would be too convenient. Reach the other side. More creepiness. Wake up. Didn't need coffee today. Already wired. Mind is spinning. Do what you must to survive until the ordeal is over. Gotta get my kids to school tomorrow. Already had 2 Grand Marnier. Dare I chance a Seroquel. Maybe Lorazepam would suffice. See how I feel in an hour. Maybe find a wall to bang my head against. Forget it. I do not exist. None of this is real. I am just a collection of skin, bones and a bit of muscle that seems to have these random emotions flailing about in it. A punching bag for others. Just existing at their pleasure. Nobody in the mirror. Nobody I recognize anyway. Just a zombie. Can't kill what's already dead. Make sure you don't end up in hell. That's where all the lawyers will be. Now that would be an interminable hell. Stop, stop, stop - I'm going to cause more nightmares. Shut it off. Off the air. No signal. Nothing. Black. Existential Nihilism....


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Just remember, Athena, this too shall pass. (((((((big hugs))))) and hoping that today is far better than you anticipated. If you would like to talk, pm me. I'll keep you in my thoughts and prayers today.

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Thanks for listening Lala, Zach, Jenna;

I posted something earlier but I guess I forgot to submit it. Probably just as well. It was pretty depressing. Anyway, I just read a quote that kind of spoke to me: "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose" from one of Janis Joplin's songs. So I guess one way or another, I will eventually achieve my freedom. As long as I'm still breathing others will keep trying to take the shirt off my back. I think my only chance of achieving anything beyond mere survival is killing off this weakling inside me and becoming somebody completely unknown.

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