Random thoughts for myself

I don't quite know why I decided to write here. I don't like knowing that this will be read by others, if only a few. I don't like the idea of my thoughts out in the open to be picked at. But I don't get to explain myself anywhere else or express how I feel. Writing that I know how gothic and dark it sounds; like the girl in the back of study hall that played with scissors in inappropriate ways. It's not like that. I have a good life and I'm happy, but I feel trapped. I know how that too sounds like some overused emo phrase, it probably is.

I'm a cheerful person. I've been socially stunted but I'm not a basement shut-in afraid of the world. I want to be out there. Whenever I do go out is when I realize how much I want to see and do and how little of it I get to accomplish. My outings have consisted of grocery store trips, doctor visits and drives to my campus. That's it. There may be the rare restaurant visit (difficult for reasons I might get to here) or a stop at a movie theatre to see something interesting. Not a few weeks rare, or months rare, years at times. The first time I've accomplished either of those two things has happened recently and I've found it bittersweet.

I don't have any friends. I'm not blind or attempting to cut off acquaintances from becoming more. I don't have a one. Not in real life, not someone I can laugh with, spend time with, talk about my troubles with. I know people online and have someone very special to me through the internet. But it's times when I feel like this that I wish I could pick up the phone and call someone, maybe leave my home for some time to get an ice cream and talk. Isn't that terrible? My dream is that stupid summer movie on Lifetime where kids grow and change and sit on random swing sets together. I want that more than anything.

And right now that desire is at its worst. I'm between the world of imagination that sustained me for so many years and the harsh reality of life. I can't close my eyes and again the same sense of complete comfort from an imaginary hug or smile. Closing my eyes brings deeper thought and a focus on the truth; I'm alone. Again it sounds so depressing, I need to get a hold of whichever emo copyrighted all of these words.

So I'm crying now and I cried yesterday and I cried a day or two before that. I'm not a crier. The only person I have any physical contact with is my mother...though I suppose 'nearby' contact would be more appropriate I can't remember the last time we touched let alone hugged. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. The problem comes when being alone has affected me so greatly. I don't trust others, I have little quirks, I just need to understand my environment and what's going to happen. It makes me feel comfortable, safe.

And I've never found any of them to be too difficult. A glass might need to be rewashed because it fell flat on the counter or an overused sponge make me nervous. I have a fear of nausea, of stomach aches. My little quirks have become the strongest in the kitchen. I need to know what to expect, it's so uncommon to be cooked for I'm thrown off when my plans are disrupted by a favor. I get nervous if I have seen an ingredient in the fridge for too long, too long by my perspective. It could have been two days, I could be imagining two weeks. I need to see things, know their safe, know that the kitchen is clean and ready. And then I'm fine. It takes all of ten minutes and I'm embarrassed and I apologize and I wonder why I've yet to stop. I know in time I will. I used to flash a light at my door a dozen times before I could fall asleep, certain something might be lurking just past my line of vision. And one day I realized I wasn't doing it. It was a relief and felt good and hasn't happened again. I just need to work it out of my system.

Sometimes I'm told it's okay, that she went through the same things as a kid. The next day she'll get angry because I don't trust her. I don't. When ingredients have been switched on you and you know someone doesn't wash their hands and all your stress is currently put towards what goes in you...I don't trust her. And I try to explain and she gets upset. I try to apologize and let her know how it's all processed in my mind. And the outcome is obvious, I wouldn't be sitting here typing and wasting tissues if it wasn't.

So I'm writing. I can imagine people reading this and caring whether they post a response or not. Hell, I'd prefer not to hear people's thoughts on my terrible quirks. In my mind this shouldn't be happening, I shouldn't be crying, I shouldn't care. I'm not a fan of emotions. I believe this will be a strange connection between the imaginary world I loved and the life that's troubling me. I'll imagine people reading and feel open; like free therapy. And at the same time it really is out there, not some personal journal to be tucked away between pictures of naked men and anime characters.

I think I'm done, I think I'm feeling better. I hope I can go downstairs and get something to eat because I'm hungry and don't have much time until work. My mom threatened to not finish and I have a feeling she didn't. If the half finished meal wasn't covered either then I can't do the rest...another quirk after the odd fruit fly showed up in the kitchen. I'll try and make rice in time and warm up leftovers; good leftovers, I'm not trying to complain. I'll hope that tomorrow when we plan to go grocery shopping I can get my list, the food that will eat until my check that has yet to come because so much money has gone to cigarettes and wine. Overall I feel weighted down, exhausted. I need to be somewhere else so I can settle my habits and live. Another dream, one that's more normal I suppose since so many young adults want to leave the house.

I also had a dream that my favorite pair of yellow checkered underpants suddenly had lights on them that I realized I never noticed. I can't remember if they tried to attack me but I dreamt squirrels in my house as well. I think squirrels could be very scary if upset.