I could use a hug wrapped in a chill pill

I’m giving myself an hour this morning to just type out some of the random thoughts rattling around my brain cage that I can’t seem to just let flutter away like I ought. It may not take an hour to jot them down because sometimes when I am in front of a keyboard my mind goes blank. Honestly, I’d be much less crazy if I could just think something and not associate that thought with who I am as a creature. Everyone thinks of death- their own or one they would like to cause, no? Everyone has a dirty thought that is taboo in the current culture. Everyone has bouts of low self esteem when their illusions get wiped away. But then I remember, I am a creature though. I have no control over how I breathe and why I have two arms and literally I cannot guarantee I won’t die today due to circumstances outside of my control. Some fool could crash an airplane into my apartment complex today, there’s no way to prepare for that. I could get clipped on the street by a drunk driver, you never can tell. I could turn the gas on and take a fucking nap. You see? It’s that sort of shit that weighs a bitch down and I hate that my mind works this way instead of appreciating all the time traveling inside my own body I get to do. How many sane people can say that? Also, being sane doesn’t really seem fun. Being sane means lying a lot. Did you know that lying is a social skill? I’ve always abhorred lying, even when I’m forced to do it to survive- but actually that’s the whole purpose of it.
Existence can be a crock of bologna sauce, can’t it? I didn’t expect I’d be on the job market again so soon after finding a role but for the nearly two years I worked there, it was low key trash- it was my first experience at a start up and hopefully my last. I’m a wood rabbit so apparently the stars say I’ll never be well off unless I hit the lottery, so basically I’ll always have to sing for my dinner. One gets tired. In many species once you are no longer able to procreate you die. And yet, I’m expected to live another 40 and walk around like Cher does half naked at 80. Ugh. Nobody expects that of me clearly but why does that option even exist? Don’t get me started I’ll rant until I’m blue in the face and what will have changed? I’m super judgmental, I know that, I’m working on being a blind bald stupid sheep person like everyone else is so I can get my I’m sane dunce cap to match the crowd. It won’t stop the thoughts. Who do I want to be now, since I still have to be something? What kind of job will I let define me going forward? Am I really the dark boho chic Sith hippie goddess I think I am, or just a chunky weirdo who isn’t homicidal because it’s too messy? I can’t tell and I don’t know.
If you read my blog regularly, why do you fools only comment on the posts where there are photos of me? Go read Part One through Six- no, there’s no goofy pictures of me but its a great story and even though I’m not publishing it ( or editing it frankly) I’m proud of it. Most of it is true. Enjoy. This only took 21 minutes. What will I do with the rest of the hour. Drink decaf. Check emails. Say hello to my vibrator. Take a walk. We will see…
Oh and if you want to be my valentine this year so I don’t get even crazier, send me a message you lunatic. Ha!