So, less than a half hour ago I had a mental and emotional breakdown. For hours, I've been on the verge of tears for no definite reason. Then, all of a sudden, I just started bawling. What finally triggered it was the stupidest of reasons: I have nothing to send to George.
Yesterday I got a Happy Birthday/Anniversary package from him. He sent me a sock monkey (I've always wanted one and now I have three), a little kid tshirt that says "Someone who loves me went to San Francisco and got me this," a picture of him (so vain), and a day planner that I sent him and told him to fill in like a journal.
At first, I was kind of pissed because I'm always the one to send him something first but this time I procrastinated and waited to the very last second to get it all together.
And now I feel like I'm not sending him enough, even though I know that anything will be more than enough for him.
I'm sending him some pictures I took in Florida, this Kodak picture book of all of our pictures together, and this book called "I Love You Because..." and there are all these little prompts that you fill out about your relationship.
I have this bear that I want to send along that's holding a heart that says "I miss you," but it doesn't fit in the Flat Rate envelope and I don't have enough stuff to fill up the F.R. box.
That's what made me cry.

That and the fact that I feel like everyone is growing away from me.
My best friend has a boyfriend and all these other best friends and I feel like I never get to see her for more than an hour a week. And I felt selfish because I was bugging her that I never get to see her when I got to see her twice this week. We used to be completely inseperable.
Then there are people who want to be around me but I just can't right now. I feel horrible because the more they try to hang out with me, the more I have to push them away.
And I know that things will never be the same.


And when I need certain people the most, they can't or won't be around. And no one else will suffice because I just don't want them to because they're not my original Shoulders.


You know, it's the first time in months that I've cried. I feel like a baby because I'm taking these silly little things and blowing them out of proportion. But then again, I don't because this has all been building up for weeks and weeks and it's about time that I just let the tears roll.

So, if you love me or even if you know me, check out my poetry page on deviantart. This is stuff that I've written over the years (mostly in high school). A lot of it has the same theme or idea but all of it is different.

It's
spacecdt07.deviantart.com





Oh, time for a quick story (more for me [so I don't forget it])!

So, I was at my Great Uncle Bud's viewing tonight and my parents were visiting with my dad's Uncle Norman's sister-in-law, who also happens to be my dad's exwife's sister (No, my dad was not married to Norman's wife. There are three sisters.). Dad saw this lady and was in the middle of saying, "Kathy who is that?" when the lady leaned in and said, "I'll see you later, Kathy. Call me later to tell me how Gaylin (her husband) is doing." Dad just looked at the lady and had this Well that was kind of rude to interrupt a conversation look on his face. The lady left and Dad finally got out, "Who is she?? She looks really familiar!" and Kathy said, "What? Are you kidding me? C'mon Hobe." and Dad said, "What do you mean, 'what?'" Should I know her?" and Kathy exclaimed "You were only married to her for ten years!!"
Dad totally didn't recognize Juanita! I had only seen her once, eleven years ago at my grandmother's funeral, so I was keeping an eye out for her just to jog my memory. I remember that she had a face lift, red hair, and dressed all fancyschmancy.
Well, when she walked in to the room, I saw her and asked my mom if that was her and Mom didn't think so because she was chunkier and shorter than the Juanita that she knew and told me to ask Dad, so I leaned over and said, "Hey. That lady over there hugging Raymond. Is that Juanita?" and he looked and said, "Oh, no. That's not her" and that was the end of that.

Poor Dad...

Even better is the fact that my uncle works at the funeral home as an escort and stuff and he even held the door open for her and didn't know it was her.


I can only hope that I get my mom's memory genes.

Faster, faster back to Lampson Avenue

Yesterday at work, a man came in and tried to order a hotdog from me, only to be told that he would have to order off of the screen at the kiosk. He said, "Oh, nevermind. I don't know how to work those things." I offered my help and together we walked over to one of the screens and I began to show him how to order. Before I could even get out "Here are all your options," he said, "Can you do this all for me? I don't know how to read or write."

I don't know what I would do if couldn't read or write. I would never be able to let my thoughts go. That's what I do. Whenever I get these deep thoughts or I want to tell someone something but am afraid to or even just thoughts that I can't let go of, I grab a notebook and a pen and just go from there. I have zillions of notebooks full of my thoughts and what I should tell people. Without writing, I would be a bigger headcase than I already am.


That's all I had to say, really.

The End.

Yes.