The amazing stories of a 23 year old living in a 78 year old’s body.
I love you. I always will love you. I know you love me, as you should. However, you do so much damage.
What rolls off your tongue..What you throw.. what you whisper.. what you yell… the pissed off faces you make. The way you terrify me and my dog. Only you can have emotions in this household. If you are reading this…
You’re the problem.
This is a joke. You can’t yell, throw a fit and read at the same time. I know you’re not reading this.
I don’t know where I am, I seem to have misplaced my treasure map. Forgive me but I’m not one of the goonies.
I have no path. It’s gone from pavement to gravel to dirt road. Now I’m just wandering around back in the hills looking for some light, something positive.
Life has gotten hard, too hard. Something is trying to break me and I feel like its succeeding. I feel like I’m losing myself. What, why, haven’t I been though enough already, so much pain and suffering and now I’m going through it all over again.
Noone has answers, noone has suffered through this, this way. Its spreading and I can’t stop it. However it doesn’t matter. My treasure hunt doesn’t matter to anyone else, I guess. You don’t care that I’m lost and need help finding a path, any path.
I’m blindly walking through the forest and I just found out that my treasure map is off. Im supposed to be at North Pole. I’m all kinds of fucked.
I chose you, in reality you chose me. You save me every damn day. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. Here, right now, you are working to keep me calm and collected. I may be crying but you are licking those tears away, applying pressure therapy and trying to taking away my pain.
You work everyday. I could have bought another car with the money I put into you. And you, a fucking ROTTWEILER the scariest of dogs, has healed my wounds everyday. Picking me up when I fall. Getting me water from the fridge (refusing to close the fridge). Opening doors. Getting meds and blankets. Getting everything I drop. Applying pressure therapy to relieve pain and calm my body. Helping me up stairs. Rescuing me when I have my episodes and finding help when I need it.
You. Saved. Me.
My body is overwhelmed; too many feelings, events, happenings, news and emotions that has overcome me these last 10-14 days. Quite frankly, I don’t know how to act. There has been good, great, bad, horrible and *thank Queen Bee it’s finally happening*.
My current drama (which normal I have non, ZERO, so this much is tearing me apart): Well first. This post is going to be all types of fucked up, if you plan on continuing I applaud you. Keep in mind it will most likely be entertaining. Carrying on..
Drama: I just, literally today, sold my first car, I’ve had it for 8 years. She was great to me but I needed the money and I no longer needed her. It tore at my heart strings a little to see her go but it was her time.
Hitting low.. my grandpa passed away this past week. We didn’t find out till a few days after. Why? Well we got a phone call on Friday step uncle- “hey our dad (grandpa) died a couple days ago, you need to come get your mom’s (grandma’s) shit from the house”. Grandma lives in a nursing home. The step uncle has been living with my grandpa for about a year now and he pushed us out of the picture. So we went up on Saturday with.. let’s see.. 8 guys to “get grandma’s shit”. 3 truck fulls later with dad and I carrying our CCW. We got all of the shit.
Literally yesterday I bought my first “dealership” car. Wholey shit, that’s alot of money I don’t have. My life’s savings is gone, well I’m only 24, and I have to make payments to an unlikely money loaner. I don’t have a job! I’m on permanent disability and get a small amount monthly to pay for bills and food. Besides this, my car has a sunroof, mf’ing sunroof. My dog loves it.
Chronic pain patient… a lot of you may deal with this. My pain management has lumped me in with the opioid crisis. I force myself to get out of bed. I’m lucky if I leave my house. Pain is hard to understand. I can’t make you feel these feelings, however, I know that you will understand one thing. Have you ever had a headache or hurt a muscle (torn/pulled)? Tried taking ibuprofen and tylenol and it just didn’t help all the way? Imagine taking big strong pain meds and it taking your pain from 8 down to 7. But you can’t take another pill because your doctor only gave you 1 pill. Everyday, repeat, every night, pain doesn’t get better.
This one is your opinion.. I feel like it a good event but it is bad for my brother. My older brother, Corey, has been dating this girl for EIGHT FUCKING YEARS. They got together senior year of high school. This girl, Bitchney, is a mooch. She moved in to our house after graduation, didn’t start college yet and didn’t have a job. She refused to get a job, she just sat in their room everyday, ate our food, and refused to talk to us. Now, Corey has bought a house (his money only) she pays for nothing but her phone bill. He pays her car insurance, food, everything for the house. So the good news- HE IS BREAKING UP WITH HER TODAY. She wastes his money, doesn’t love him anymore, doesn’t even have sex with him anymore and is flirting/being sexual with other guys. Now that they are not dating anymore my promise to my mother is no longer good: I can punch her if I see her, yeessss.
Are you still reading? Sorry, seriously.
Lastly, I have to have exploratory surgery. I’m nervous, I want it to happen. I want to figure out what is wrong but I’m worried they will say they can’t fix me.
I’m the kid running down the street. The women you see everyday at work in the elevator, always having awkward blunt conversations and silence. I’m your mother and grandfather seeing doctors monthly. I’m the guy you sit next to in biochem 2 who isn’t always able to make it to class.
I’m the redhead you yelled at in line at McDonald’s because she forgot her order. That veteran stumbling across the parking lot, which those young kids made fun of. The father you see at the pharmacy every 14 days, he was forced to leave his job.
Your neighbor you hear screaming and crying in fear every night around 3 am. I’m your grandma who no longer seems like your grandma.
I’m your favorite middle school teacher/aid, ends up you can have OCD and tourette’s and still be a role model and educator. I’m the girl she always stayed around, she only talked through her hands; you never understand how. I’m your soccer coach, he got into a 3 car accident 4 years ago; that scooter he has is fancy AF. I’m the cashier at Walmart that you yelled at because I moved too slowly. That guy you saw that had his dog with him in the bank? That isn’t a pet, he is a highly trained service dog that tasks for his owner’s disability.
I’m that teenager down the street learning how to drive (in his uncle’s old Benz) for the first time and has immense anxiety. It is ok to take it slow, sometimes slow is fast. The kid you used to bully on the play ground because he counted steps, tapped his head and didn’t know how to socialise. He is at an Ivy league college to be an orthopedic surgeon, on a full scholarship; he will probably fix your arthritic hip in 5 years.
I’m in so many people yet so many people don’t understand.. or don’t try to understand.
Pain changes people. Pain hurts whether it is physical (invisible or visible), mental, emotional, temporary or permanent. Pain is real and it all hurts just the same.
We are warriors.
I have scars and I have stories. Some wounds, well, they never heal. I push on but I feel the weight still pulling me down. I can feel it, deep down in my bones. Something is wrong with me; it’s intolerable and dark. What you fear as a child, the monster under the bed and in your closet, that burns inside me no matter what I do.
My body writes a story but not a bedtime fairytale. It’s full of demons, pain and torture, maybe a smile here and there. Its not beautiful. It’s not a masterpiece. Yet my parents sure are proud. They haven’t read it all, just the cover, front and back.
Fire leaves some nasty marks, inside and out. I was found sitting there too long without any help. Now it’s permanent; now it will never change. The fire around me became a fire within me, more painful than you can tell.
So many feelings are spinning inside me, almost intertwined with each other. However I feel so empty. I can’t understand the emotion or why I feel it. I’m incapable of letting them out, they just keep mixing together. It is knotted yarn, that horribly tasting mixed drink you make when you first find out what alchohol is or (we all know this weird kid who would do this) mix 5 of the 8 flavors of soda from the soda machine. MMMMM Dr. cokrootrangebeerfanta.
I don’t know if I was born an Ogre, a dinosaur or fairy. I know I’m not a donkey. I must have been dropped off at these human’s doorstep as a baby. I just know that I don’t belong here, I don’t fit in. I may have learned how to camouflage my original state so I blend in more; however I don’t think it is doing the job anymore. Blending in just isn’t enough.
Ogre, fairy, alien, devil or God, whatever I am… it isn’t human. I can’t be human, I’m not made the same inside. I have to drug this human meat suit just to survive every single day. It tries to kill me and it is painful, man oh man is it painful. It doesn’t allow me to sleep, the poor thing’s leg will soon fall off and the head won’t support me anymore. I wonder if I can change bodies, would the other humans notice?
Maybe I truly am the Mailman’s child.
I can’t get you off my mind
I won’t be able to sleep tonight
No one told me it would be this hard
No one told me
Voices everywhere, every day and night, all the time, it never ends. They come in a bunch of different pitches and sounds, familiar or brand new. They tell me too much. These voices ruin me.
They can make me feel pretty. I hear my mom say “Honey, you always look beautiful”. My grandpa tells me “never cover up your freckles”.
They sound like kids from school, their voices, disoriented and bitchy or life like. “Your hair is hideous”; first off I love my red hair, my ginger-ness saves my soul and steals so many others. “Oh my God, I didn’t know she looked like that, if she actually tried to look like a girl she could be popular”. Or the ever popular making fun of my last name “dirty water, dirty water. Shitty water. Shitty water” y’all can do better than that.
I hear daily that I’m not good enough, I should do something to make me better. I need to get a job. How do I get a job when I physically handicapped? I’m letting myself down, I know I’m letting others down too. These voices, the fake ones, they are the ones that attack at night whilw I’m vulnerable, in pain and alone.
My family and friends will always stick in my head. I love hearing their voices. However, they can cause pain even if they don’t mean too. “If you can do it then it wasn’t that painful”. “You don’t look that good”. “I didn’t know that was your bad leg/ didn’t think would hurt you that badly”.
My best friend says “where’s my whore. Your godson misses you. You would be so proud of me for —-“. We make jokes that only we understand. Luckily she understands my sarcasm. “All we need is a bathroom and a good carpet to lay on”.
The voices follow me, good and bad. What do your voices have to say?