Fraudulent Friendlies

Pet peeves. I have many. My biggest? Fakeness. Pretense. Specifically pretending to be interested and/or concerned about my well being when in reality you're not. I am not as stupid as I pretend to be. I see more than people realize. Call it a gift. A sixth sense. Whatever, but I'm not stupid. I don't understand why people do this. It makes no sense to me. If you want something from me, then just say that. Don't pretend to be my friend. Don't pretend to be concerned about me when you're not. Just be honest. Truthful Say what you want but don't act like you care for me when we both know you don't. 

Fucktarded people! Everything is just getting on my nerves lately. Little things that I usually could over look seem inflated a thousand times over. I just want to run. Far. Run. I want to be ok. Now. Not a year from now. Not two years from now, but NOW. I'm ready to LIVE not just SURVIVE but I can't. I'm still in survival mode. I can't come out of it. Not now. If I did then I would lose everything. I'm still not out. I still have a long way to go before I'm out, but I'm ready to be out NOW. I want out NOW.

Nothing Else To Do

I've been crying for 48 hrs and it's starting to piss me off. It just won't stop. The pain. The ache inside it's too much. I have no idea what I'm going to do. No idea where to run. Where I can just disappear into nothingness. But yet the tears don't stop falling. Everyone is looking to me to fix it. To make it better. Everyone depends on me but I'm so weak. So unstable. I can't bear their weight. They are hungry but there is no food.No money. 

What am I suppose to do? Apparently cry because that is all I seem to be capable of doing for the last two fucking days. The more I try to stop them from coming the more they fall. I don't know what to do. Who to trust anymore. Every time I trust someone they use me, toss me aside. Break me in ways I didn't know I could be broken and yet I stupidly trust again. When will I learn? I can trust no one. If they breathe, they are untrustable. I am alone.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Getting back to some writing prompts. This is a past prompt but it's something I struggle with every single day.

“Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Mirror, mirror on the wall… find the nearest mirror. Look. Keep looking for 3 minutes. Write about what you see.

(Author: Esther Poyer)

 First let's talk about the quote itself. This speaks volumes to me. I lie to myself so much that I very rarely know the truth. I have found a sort of peace and calm within the lies that I don't want to leave them. I am now having to face some harsh realities and a part of me wants to run back to the fictitious world that I had created. A world filled with happiness and calm, a world that is slowly crumbling around me. I know it is important that I face the truth even if it is ugly, but a part of me wants to stay in the fantasy land. In the lies because there is no pain there. Even though the pain returns there are at least moments without it and to have just a moment without pain is all I really want. 

However to be honest, I could not do this. I cannot look in a mirror at myself for 3 minutes. On the very rare occasions I do look in the mirror, I do not even recognize the person standing there. It's as if I am looking at a stranger. There is such a sadness in the eyes of the person staring back at me. A sadness and an emptiness that pains me to see. 

The longer I look the uglier the reflection becomes. It morphs into this evil, repulsive creature that I don't want to believe is me, but it is what I think people see when they look at me. I just can't bear to look at myself. I see all of my flaws. All of the wrongness that is me. Even if it is a lie, I just want a few moments where I am not that broken creature staring back at me. So if I don't look, then it doesn't exist. If I pretend it's not there, then it disappears and for a few moments, I am free from the pain. Free from the past. Free from the hurt. 

In the end, that is all I really want. To be free. 


Edited to add:

I wrote the above but now having hit publish and sort of reading the quote again, I have had quite a few thoughts run through my mind, but the one that stuck out the most was the truth is not beautiful. It is a raging ugly beast that ravages everything it touches. I much prefer the "lies" of my fantasy world over the "truth" of reality.

Truth, Deep Breaths, and Cake

Tomorrow is my son's birthday. He's 16. This could probably explain some of my weirdness lately. June and August are hard months for me. Reminders of things lost. Irreplaceable things. Reminders of hopes and dreams that are nothing more than whispers in the wind. Never knowing if they will ever be more than shadows I glimpse out of the corner of my eyes. June and August are weird times for me. 

I haven't spoken to my children since 2006. To be honest, there have been times where I didn't even try. Too much pain. Too much heartache buried in rejection. Pretending. Ignoring. Less pain in numbness than in feeling. I don't know what his favorite food is anymore. It use to be my lasgna but who knows now. He use to be an amazing futball player. He was a striker but now? 

I wonder if he knows how to drive or if he has plans for his first car. So many thoughts rolling around the darkness of my brain. I stalk my ex (his father) and my ex's wife on facebook. Their status updates always make me laugh at their hypocrisy. I think if people only knew your truth, but I remain silent. Deep breaths. 

I never pulled the rope in the tug of war with my ex. Whenever he put my kids in the middle, I just would let go. I never wanted them to feel they had to choose sides. I never wanted them to feel they could only love one of us. No matter how much I hated my ex I loved my children more so when he tugged I let go. Whoever said take the high road was a fucking moron. I wish I had been a bitch. I wish I had put his ass in jail when he didn't pay child support. I wish lots of things but they are just wishes. Unrealized moments of what if's and should have beens. Deep breaths. 

Then there is my ex roommate. The catalyst in what led me to sending my kids to live with their father. She told me she would help me. She told me she was my friend. That she would be there for me and like the niave idiot I was I believed her bullshit because I was so alone. I wanted a friend. I wanted to believe her lies were different. That this time it would be different and it was. For a moment, but then she was fucking a married man and well you can only fuck married men in so many places. She wanted our one bedroom flat to be that place, but my daughter has a mouth that does not close so she couldn't fuck him if my kids were there. 

They were an interference in her affair. When it comes to fucking married men, promises get forgotten and friendships become burdens. 

She told me I had two weeks to find a new place to live so I phoned up my ex and for the first time in the 8-9 yrs my children had breathed the air on this planet I forced him to take care of them. A part of me knew that I would never see them again. A part of me knew that I was opening an alternative universe that I would never again be able to visit. A part of me knew I was about to step off of the edge of reality. A part of me I have lost somewhere. 

Her affair was the final straw in my crumbling world. A world that was slowly being filled with delusions, insanity, turmoil. A world I allowed to consume me once my children were "safe". For three years I allowed it to consume me. Its embrace was comforting. In its arms I didn't have to feel the emptiness. The pain. I didn't have to BE. 

I gave up hope. Hope of a tomorrow with my children in it. Hope of a day when truth is real and not the fantasy my ex and his wife make it out to be. She was our babysitter. My ex's best friend's daughter. I trusted her. Invited her into my home. Even afterwards. After the lies and the divorce and the torture, I still opened my home to her. 

I taught her about religion. Stupid fucking high road. Don't ever take the high road. Don't ever be the "better" person. It's a dead end street to nowhere and nothing. Because no one remembers the truth. Just their illusions. No one remembers she was our babysitter. No one remembers she broke my home. Ask anyone and I am the evil bitch. I abandoned my children. 

No one remembers the unanswered phone calls. The threats for leaving a message on the machine. No one remembers the letters. No one cares about the years spent homeless. Never knowing if there would be food or a place to sleep the next month. No one cares why. They just care that they are the "good" one. That's all that really matters anyways. Not truth. Exhale. 

What would I do differently? Honestly I don't know. I am the person I am today because of the pain. Because of the difficulties. Without them I don't know who I would be or what or where. I was slowly being sucked into a vortex that I didn't want my children to be a part of . I wanted them to know sunshine, and rainbows. I wanted them to see the flowers and feel the rain on their faces. I didn't want them to know what it felt like to have your breath sucked from your body. 

But somehow I think they know. All of the things I tried so hard to keep from them. They know. So today I wonder if my son is happy. If he is content. I wait for the day when maybe his curiosity will outweigh his hatred. A day when maybe just maybe. That is the day I wait for.

Does This Mean I'm Famous Now

To the asswipe who just became my follower, apparently you're stupider than you look. If you're going to steal my posts, then don't fucking FOLLOW me so that I can see you have copy/pasted my entire post and claimed it as your own, fucktard. 

I am not sure whether I should be pissed or flattered that my posts are so awesome that you considered stealing them and claiming them as your own. Next time however write your own fucking shit and leave mine the hell alone!!!

Honesty Sucks Monkey Dick

First I would like to preface this post by saying I am being forced against my will to blog. I did not want to blog. I wanted to crawl into a dark little corner and have a pity me party but oh no, bitch would not let me. Bitch had to stick her gawddamn nose all up in my bizness and is forcing me to blog because it will be all therapuetic or some such nonsensical shit as that. So yea bitch, I love you.

I don't really know if monkeys have dicks, but if they did, then honesty would blow each and every one of them because honesty is a big fat crock of SHIT. I don't know who came up with the idea of HONESTY but obviously it was someone who never has been honest in their whole life and thought hmmm how can I make money oh I know I will get people to believe my bullshit.

I was honest with my husband. I am no angel. I am not proud of the shit I did but I also don't feel the need to LIE about it either. Some of what I did was when I was manic some was when I just plain fucking stupid, but either way I did what I did. I have never been one to shy away from that. Most people misinterpret my honesty but that is ok they suck monkey dick too so I could care less what they fucking think. Monkeydickfuckers.

The reason I was so honest with my husband is because we have a LOT of mutual friends. Friends who I was certain would be more than happy to fill my husband in on my past. I thought by me telling him that it would keep us from having problems, but oh how naive was I. Because what I didn't plan on was the fuckholes LYING about my past. What I didn't plan on was my husband BELIEVING the fuckholes lies instead of me. But that is what happened and for three years now I have tried my best to make him believe me. I have been patient because he has been patient with me, but I am human. I have limits and I am at the end of my rope.

I cannot continue on being called a whore, slut, and any other word you can think of to insert here simply because two people decided making me look like a fuckass would somehow alleviate them from their participation in our relationship. By making me out as the controlling manipulative bitch, it would somehow make their cheating on their wives less important and you know what, they were fucking RIGHT. So divorce #2 is drawing near. I have already started making plans and most likely will leave right after Jigger comes back from his trip in July.

Lies & Delusions

You know one of the things I have discovered while blogging? It is the cheapest therapy I have ever had in my life. Now don't get me wrong it is no substitute for the real deal, but it definitely has some unique advantages. The best being getting to hear input from others who are "just like YOU". Yesterday I wrote about how I lie. ALL. THE. TIME. and Aimee, who is one of the few women I would turn Bi for and is my MiniMe, made a comment. That comment led me to an epiphany. Of sorts.

Aimee said, "It's very easy for me to lose respect for someone who believes my lies. No respect, no real affection, which means the relationship isn't any deeper than a bathtub"

and I replied, "Yep exactly. If you believe the bullshit that comes out of my mouth, then get ready because you ain't seen nothing yet. I will take you on a ride that will blow your mind.".

Literally as my fingers typed those words a light bulb went off over my head and I had a WTF moment. You see for those of you new to my little corner of the blogsphere. I suffered from pretty severe delusions. You can read about some of that here. and here .

Now this little exchange got me to thinking about how I ended up believing I was some divinely appointed shaman-esque type person. You see I didn't come up with this idea on my own. Someone else told me this and well in the beginning I think I just played along with it because I was getting attention. At the time I was severely depressed and felt so utterly alone in the world. So it started out as a why not, let's play type thing, but you see another problem I have is that I tend to lose grip on reality. I mentioned yesterday I have memories and I am not sure if they are real or if they are lies because sometimes I begin to believe my own lies. My lies become as real to me as reality and I will defend my own lie because I BELIEVE it 110% without doubt even though it is an absolute lie. I "forget" it is a lie.

Now I think that is what led me down the rabbit hole. I began to believe my own lie. I got lost in the fantasy and couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. This is something that scares me to death. I have lost so much of my life because  I had toxic people around me and I ended up believing the bullshit they did/said.I fear that if I again choose the wrong people to be near me that I will end up in the same situation again, but then another part of me fears being alone. 

It is a catch-22. I am afraid to have people near me and yet just as afraid of being alone. I don't know what the solution is, but at least having a bit of understanding into it can maybe one day help in finding the solutions. Maybe.

Nothing but the Truth

I am a compulsive liar. What is a compulsive liar?

Compulsive Liar

A compulsive liar is defined as someone who lies out of habit. Lying is their normal and reflexive way of responding to questions. Compulsive liars bend the truth about everything, large and small. For a compulsive liar, telling the truth is very awkward and uncomfortable while lying feels right. Compulsive lying is usually thought to develop in early childhood, due to being placed in an environment where lying was necessary. For the most part, compulsive liars are not overly manipulative and cunning (unlike sociopaths), rather they simply lie out of habit - an automatic response which is hard to break and one that takes its toll on a relationship

The terms Pathological Liar, Habitual Liar and Chronic Liar are often used to refer to a Compulsive Liar.




I lie about the most mundane stupid things. It is a compulsion that I cannot control. I lie because I fear the reaction of the person if I tell the truth. I have read that people with bipolar lie frequently, but I think for me it is more than just the bipolar. I grew up in an extremely abusive home. My father was an alcoholic. He beat my mother, molested me.

By the time I was 5 and started kindergarten, I was an excellent liar. "Oh MJ, how did you get that bruise, sweetie? I fell down off my bicycle". It was instant. No thought was necessary. The lie came to me as easily as the truth. Even if you catch me in a lie, I will lie my way out of it. Sometimes I convince myself the lie is the truth. I have done this so much that I actually have moments and memories that I am uncertain if they are real or just something I made up.

What people don't understand is that I don't want to lie. I want to be able to tell the truth, but I can't. It is an irrational unexplainable fear. My whole life I have been told I wasn't good enough. That I was bad. That no one would love me. So I lie because who could accept me if I said the truth? Except that people get angry and upset when they find out I lied especially when it is a stupid lie that was totally unnecessary. I lose friends because of this which only re-enforces my need to lie. It re-enforces the irrational thoughts of not being "good enough".  Confused by that? Me too. In a rational mind, you would think "hmmm I won't lie then people won't get mad at me", but in an irrational illogical bipolar mind it becomes "see I told the truth and they got mad and left. this is why I should have just lied".

I don't know if I will ever be able to stop. Now it is a subconscious act. Trying to stop lying would be like trying to stop breathing and somehow still survive. How does one do that?

I'm not here for your entertainment
You don't really want to mess with me tonight
Just stop and take a second
I was fine before you walked into my life

'Cause you know it's over
Before it began
Keep your drink just give me the money
It's just u + ur hand tonight

"u + ur hand - pink"