We do for others because we don't know how to do for ourselves. We do for others because we feel it is the only way to make up for the damage we feel our craziness is doing to society. We do for others because it makes us feel good when nothing else in the whole world does, not even pills. We stay quiet and sit in the corner because others seem so much more needy. We require so little, you and I. A fact which does not sit well with others who would label us as too much to handle. When in truth, all those such as us really need is a bit of understanding, a bit of reciprocation, maybe a touch on the cheek once in a while and a sly wink. The rest of the world is needy. I'd rather be crazy. ~~Aimee

Saturday, 31 March 2012

Rotten To The Core

So apparently I'm spoiled. Yea I know I was just as shocked too. I had always thought spoiled meant this:

What? You did too? Well you're wrong. That is NOT what spoiled is. Spoiled is buying a $200 appliance from the store, bringing it home, unpacking it, and finding out that it DOESN'T FUCKING WORK, and then saying to your husband, "can we take it back and exchange it because it doesn't work properly?"

Yes THAT is spoiled. Oh and want to know what else is spoiled? When eating certain foods make you puke your guts out for hours and days on end so you don't eat those foods. You instead eat foods that don't make you puke your innards outwards. That is also spoiled. 

You're welcome for the educational lessons. I accept donations for this exceptional service. Email me for paypal details.

Oh and blogger? You and Facebook can kiss my ass with all your fucked up changes. I don't like the new blogger thing and I don't like the new Facebook and I realize neither of you care what I like but I'm spoiled so I'm fucking telling you anyways. Suck on them donkey balls. 

Saturday, 24 March 2012

Cycling Without Training Wheels

I'm cycling into manic. I can feel it. I haven't been sleeping properly for about 4 days now. My thoughts racing. Constant. Ever changing. The need to be moving. Doing. Something. Even if only mentally. Constantly in motion. Never stilling. Never calming. 

During these times I do stupid shit. Like stalk my ex's on FB. I told  you it was stupid. 

I look at them and their lives. I see how they just went on without me. Happy. Living. Loving. Laughing. Breathing. Never missing a beat. And I feel jealous.

Not of the ones they're with because I sincerely do NOT want to be with THEM particularly. I just feel jealous of the life they have. I feel jealous they have a life and I have nothing. 

I know that's not true. I have Jigger and a roof over my head. I have food to eat everyday and in many ways I'm richer than most people. 

But..there's always a but...

It's not easy. It's not the life I want. I love Jigger but not the way I should. There's no passion. No fire. No excitement. I love him because he helps me to conquer the beast and as I type this it breaks my heart to know that I will never be IN love with him. I would never leave him, but a part of me aches that it will never have that passion. That fire. That love that I see between those I stalk. 

I want that. I want someone to be obsessively in love with me. To be consumed by the thought of me. In my whole life I've never had that. Even Jigger doesn't love me like that. In many ways I think he feels sorry for me. He pities me. 

I don't want pity. I want fire and passion and excitement. Not manic passion, but just to feel alive. To know that there is one person in the world whose NEED for survival is me. 

I'll never have that. I have to accept that. But it still hurts. It hurts to admit this to myself because I deny it even within the confines of my spinning mind. I refuse to allow these thoughts to circumnavigate because if I allow them to even for a moment they'll make me spin out of control, but no matter how hard I try they're still there. And I torture myself by watching others. By seeing their lives and how they are. 

And I wonder why couldn't that have been me?

Thursday, 22 March 2012

The Tickle

In the back of my brain. It's starting. It's not as strong as before, but it's there. Taunting me. Teasing me. I keep trying to ignore it. Continuously repeating the mantra of "everything is ok do not panic there is nothing that is going to hurt  you". If I repeat this enough, then the tickle remains quiet.

I don't know why it happens. Why suddenly out of nowhere I start to feel like chicken little and "holy shit we have to get to turkey lurkey or the whole world will fucking explode and there will be no turkey and dressing for you". This panic tickle has caused me to make a mess of my life. When it comes I usually react to it, like my life is in mortal danger when it's not. I react to something that isn't there and then create something I can't get my way out of. Digging myself deeper into the rabbit hole. 

Now I'm not so deep in the hole and I know the tickle isn't real, but there's another tickle now the "what-if-so-just-in-case" tickle. It scares me. Makes me want to listen to the panic tickle because what if it is real and I'm just so use to telling myself it isn't. A vicious cycle. 

Before I was alone. I had no central point to focus on to figure out if the panic tickle was real or if I should ignore it. Now I have people like Sam and Jigger around me. When the tickle comes I look at them. They keep me grounded. Focused. Breathing. They let me know when it's time to run.

Wednesday, 21 March 2012

That Look

It's been awhile since I've been here. Sometimes I get my blinders on and forget beyond the narrow space in front of me. Lately I've been so focused, so consumed by things that at times I've forgotten to eat, sleep, brush my hair, wash clothes, clean house, and/or shower. With more than one occurring on most days. In some ways the focus is good. I've accomplished a lot. Although, it's weird how hygiene is always the first thing to go regardless of which pole you swing to. 

But then today it happened. Again. Jigger gave me that look. The one that says 'dear lord she's batshit fucking insane crazy" look. If you're crazy, you know the look I'm talking about. The one where their eyes kinda glaze over and their head tilts slightly. Not quite the deer in the headlights stare, but you can see them wondering if they need to get the tranquilizer darts or just RUN for their lives. That look. 

It all started so innocently. Jigger asked me a question, "Are people who have premonitions common?" He was watching his favorite CSI-ish show and it was about a psychic with premonitions who solved the case. We then got into a discussion about beliefs and that lead to me opening my very big mouth and ramming my foot and part of my leg into it. You see I believe in premonitions because I use to have them. Admittedly, some weren't real. Some were caused by the synapses in my brain misfiring, but some I can't explain. I had them. I "knew" things before they happened. I told people such and such will happen, and then it did. This happened on more than one occasion while I was growing up. I would have probably continued and told him a lot more but that was when I noticed it. 

The look.

Jigger was sitting in his chair at his desk, looking at me like I'd sprouted two heads, and I instantly shut the hell up and diverted the topic to something else. 

Sometimes I forget how very different I am. I've grown comfortable with my differences and I forget others don't always share that same comfort. Jigger knows but he prefers not to have it shoved in his face. So when I forget and start showing my crazy to him, it's difficult for him. 

But whenever I see that look in HIS eyes, it hurts. More than when I see it on others. I expect it from others, but not him. He's suppose to be different. He's suppose to understand, and he is and he does, but sometimes it's more than even he can bear so I tuck it away in the silence. I say the right words, the words that don't bring "the look" and I hide the ones that will. But sometimes I wish I didn't have to hide the words. 

At least not from him.

Monday, 5 March 2012

Can You Hear Me Now

I'm loud. I don't mean to be.I do have an inside voice. Majority of the time people have to ask me to repeat myself because I speak so lowly. But sometimes when I feel safe and free, when I'm emotional, even happy emotional, I get loud. I don't mean to. I don't know why that is. Jigger  thinks I'm "yelling". I try to watch it. To always be aware of how many decibels are exiting my mouth at any given moment, but that's exhausting. Like trying to walk a tight rope made out of egg shells. Sometimes I forget. 

To be aware. 

And the decibels leak out and Jigger thinks I'm yelling at him and he gets angry and "yells" back. Which causes me to actually start yelling. I don't know why this happens. It's another one of those life isn't fair moments. Where I pout and whine and stomp off to the corner wondering why it is I'm being forced into the world's concepts of right and wrong. So what if I leak more decibels than you. Why shouldn't I be allowed to? In my own home? In my own room? Why am I monitored within the confines of my own four walls? 

Because that's life. So I'm aware and I count the decibels because Jigger puts up with all of the temper tantrums. So for him I count the decibels.

Saturday, 3 March 2012


I've been busy lately. Like extremely. So busy my brain is seeping out my ears and my eyeballs are in need of replacement. I'm exhausted mentally, physically, emotionally. I want just a moment away from the roller coaster of thoughts that race through my head. Just a moment. A single breath. To be able to sit down the burdens upon me for just a moment. Free. Unchained. But life's not fair. We don't always get what we want. That's just how it is so onwards I go. Retreat. Surrender are not options.

This is Sparta! 


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