Looks like a birthday cake to me…

I’m 43….

But inside I feel like a kid.

I want to die feeling that way.

Life is to much fun to think any other way.

Yeah…I’m fucked.

Even backwards we all know those three letters.

The day before my birthday too…am I surprised? Nope.

I can’t say I didn’t see it coming.

The thing that pisses me off about it is I had to claim a hell of a lot of dependants to have enough money to pay off credit cards bills…$17,000 worth and I did. All those credit card bills built up due to me trying to support DD, busted up cars and animals that needed some help…oh and me.

In the end though…I can’t blame anyone but myself.

I owe over $10,000 but I think that 07 and 08 will put at least a small dent in that.

I’m actually not too upset about it I just hope that when I call them, something can be worked out because if they start garnishing my wages I’m history.

Ahhh…the mistakes that I have made in my life are huge and it’s funny that they are all monetary.

I don’t think I’ve intentionally screwed over any one person in my life but myself.

What the fuck is that about?

It was a good day.

A champagne brunch.

It was fucking fabulous!

I felt human again.

Thanks Mandy.

A reply to a comment turned into a blog...

It was pussy boy next door to you...no stiches now?

And it's not his fault..It just hit me wrong...that's all.

What I find hard, is no one understands...and they can't.

It was a choice between hitting him or walking out for a smoke. Obviously, I chose the latter.

It's not the word, it's the amount of times it has been used over years...pinpointed at me. 10 times a day, for well...lets see...7 years. Yeah...I don't want to hear "whore" again because I never was. He was.

As for the old "sticks and stones" I'd rather be beaten because the bruises heal but the words never go away. I've been through both...words are the more powerful weapon.

I have worn turtle necks in the summer here because I had perfect imprints of his fingers on my neck. His explaintion of it was "You are just so fat and digusting and I WANT YOU TO DIE."

What hurt more...take a guess....punch me in the face.

It's all a fucking joke. I loved the son of a bitch...

Do I still worry about him...yes.

The thing that people don't know is we were there for each other when no one else was.

no. one. understands.

What people in Neverland always say..."Just leave him."

You are brilliant!!! Why didn't I think of that sooner before I was mentally fucked over.

The truth of the matter is...I'm getting better...because if I don't...I'll die.

Am I being a drama queen? Maybe...doubtful though.

Don't judge what you haven't lived through.

No one was standing next to me when it all happened. Not one fucking person.

My problem is, I was there for them.

Whore...

1: a woman who engages in sexual acts for money : prostitute; also : a promiscuous or immoral woman

This one cut me to the bone...when someone else besides Vance called me that.

It was all in jest and I understand this...

Did it make me feel like a whore when he said the word?

Yes.

Was I standing in the middle of a bowling alley with my coworkers around...yes.

Did that one word make me feel that way?

What do you think?

I hate that a word can level me.

My issue is I have never been anything but kind.

But closeted with a maniac tends to drive a person to the other side.

No one knows me and NO ONE can judge me...or label me.

Love me, Love my Doll.

This documentary disturbs me on so many levels but every time it’s on I have to watch it.

It’s bizarre to me that men would want to have sex with a doll that has no soul and start to care about them…but they have sex with living women that have no soul and they are worthless to them.

Honestly, the shit that these guys say on this documentary is bordering on insanity.

It’s funny, I saw another show in which the man that designed the female dolls tried a male version. They tested it on 3 female friends. They all had fun with it but said they wouldn’t buy one because there was no connection.

Men and women are so different and it’s bizarre to me that we haven’t killed each other off.

I do believe though if it came down to an actual war between the sexes, women would win.

While men are loading guns, we have already poisoned your coffee.

The guys on the show aren’t out of the norm look wise but the mental mind state is overwhelming.

We all have our baggage. I guess everyone has to find their way to deal with it.

And who am I to find fault in that.

I can’t.

Mouse watch…

Sach was in the kitchen tonight, planted in the same place for two hours. Patiently waiting.

My oh my...what a beautiful predator she is.

I feel sorry for this mouse because I do believe he’s a goner.

At least I did something right today…

I parked it two blocks down. Free carwash…I’m surprised something didn’t fall off.

It’s the little things in life that make it simple and sweet.

Then it started. The phone calls. Over and over and over again.

Carrier, Vance…
323.283.1444

Get drunk. Call the bastard just to say “Hi.”

No one sees it. No one knows.

Everyone says restraining order. I don’t do it because he’s not normal. It will enrage him. It will make it worse. It could mean me…dead. Does anyone get this concept?

I called his parents today. Left a message.

“Hey, It’s India, I love you guys but I can’t do this anymore. Lynn called me 9 times in a minute at 4:45 in the morning and I don’t need this in my life. Please tell both of them to leave me alone. I know it’s been a hard road with him but I’ve served my sentence and I’m done. Now It’s is your turn…again.”

It felt good to say that. Did I make it worse? Absolutely.

He’s crazy. He just doesn’t know it yet.

My neighbor told me he has been “around.”

He has no reason to be here.

He’s going to kill me…one way or another.

If my demise is Vance then I am a stupid fucking cunt.

I knew it.

I felt it.

Sure as shit, as I turned down my street from the laundry mat from hell I heard him scream my name.

He hadn’t showered in five days. The last two nights he slept on the street.

I don’t understand where Vance went.

It breaks my heart.

Words are a powerful weapon…

I answered my phone, not looking at the caller ID, thinking it was someone else.

“You’ve turned into a fucking piece of garbage.”

Everything came back.

My decade of darkness returned, once again…with a vengence.

I don’t understand why people strike out at other people when they feel like shit about themselves.

I guess some people have to make themselves feel better some how. Why not beat someone else down?

I’ve never understood this concept.

I’ve tried to explain Vance here but there is no one but me that really knows the nightmare he is.

And the emotional wreck he has made me.

I can hardly look in the mirror anymore because he told me for years how disgusting I looked.

I wonder, to this day, why I stayed with him for so long. I still don’t have an answer.

The closest I can come is that he beat me down so badly that I felt I would never find anyone else that could stand to look at my face. Not even me.

Do I think I’m pretty? I think I’m different.

When I was 16 I use to hang out at this bar and one of the bartenders told me…

“One day you’ll be striking.”


striking
Function:
adjective
: attracting attention or notice through unusual or conspicuous qualities.

That meant I wasn’t pretty. That meant I was different.

Ray was a wise bartender.

Even though I didn’t really understand…I know now.

I feel as if I’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for Joe.

I promised myself, after he killed himself, that I would never take the easy way out.

It’s hard sometimes…to keep that promise.

I wish I was like everyone else…but I’m not.

I take on other peoples agony and pain.

I guess that’s why I stayed with Vance for so long. I wanted to ease his pain.

But some people can’t see past the indigence of life.

I can…and he hates me for it.

I miss when I was 27

but I'm glad I'm not anymore.
the light in my eyes has stayed...
through an absolute nightmare.
no one knows or should they care.
they go about their lives.
I don't blame them.
I would as well…
if I was normal.
I accept that I'm not
and I'm grateful.
so many times
i want to scream
listen to me.
no one ever does.
the pages of my life came in a box today.
who I truly am.
the person no one sees.