Thursday, March 5, 2009


Like the wind, I'm wild or gentle.
Like the sea, I'm tempermental.

That describes me perfectly.

I heard it on a Pop mix CD I bought when I was young. It's stuck with me. I think I'd like to get the verse tatooed on me.

I have horrible mood swings. It's quite easy to set me off, though it's not always noticable. I am able to keep it under wraps. I also have an insatiable dark side and am incredibly violent, even when in a perfectly good mood.

I like to punch and to receive punches. I like the feeling of being hit or pushed. The BF has never been violent with me, but I've punched him in the arm out of anger. (and in the stomach out of sillines because it's funny watching him double over in pain)

I like to be choked during intercourse (as part of my asphyxiation complex.) I have never been choked out before though.

But when you meet me, I'm not dressed in black. I don't wear excessive amounts of black eyeliner, or tacky, stripped wristbands. I don't have a streak of random unnatural colour in my hair, or cover one eye with long bangs.

I look normal. I wear normal people clothes. Visually, I don't stand out in anyway. I have all these weird things on the inside though. Things I've stopped trying to share with others because they don't understand and they think I'm some freak.

I'm not the freak. Everybody's had fucked up thoughts before. It's normal. It's just that nobody talks about it. Maybe they're ashamed... afraid... I choose not to share my thoughts mostly because I'm afraid of being judged.

My thoughts aren't evil... they're more violent. I often imagine myself torturing others and being disgustingly inhumane. I suppose inhumanity could be considered evil. I like the idea of unorthodox social experiments that would ruin somebody's life. Like that guy who was born a male, but his penis got cut off during circumsision so they gave him hormones and tried to turn him into girl. What sort of sick people would do that? I'm not surprised he killed himself cause that's fucked up. He worked with my dad at Maple Leaf for a while.

I like what Vince Li did to Tim McLean from a sociological stand point. The outrage, the false terror, the gruesomeness. The witnesses are still having nightmares all these months later.

Would I have nightmares too? Would I be traumatized? Is there a single witness who wasn't traumatized?

What's it like to see a severed head? It's probably the most disgusting thing ever.

On the other side of the scale, I think about humanity. Sometimes I cry thinking about the days top new stories, like if somebody died, or their house burned down.

I think about the world and I how I want to save it. I give money to all the homeless people who ask. I pick up every hitch hiker I see. If the industry I'm in now fails me, I'd like to start my own daycare and run it out of my home. I love children and I want them to grow up less fucked up than me. I wish I could adopt every abandoned cat and dog and we'd all live in the country together.

Me, my lover/husband person, the homeless people, the homeless animals, and my daycare children will live happily ever after, under a rainbow, eating fresh food from our garden, learning all these sweet skills from our nature hikes together. We'll train our pets to be our awesome friends with skills too! And we'll be millionaires because we have our own reality TV show documenting our wonderful life.

When I was super young I actually thought about this concept a lot.

So those are my extremes and this scale applies to all my relationships and everything in my life. My job, my car, my house.

I only blog about one side of the scale. I'm sorry I'm not more unbiased and don't provide the positive outlook. Happy thoughts can be shared with anyone because everyone likes happy thoughts. Nobody likes unhappy thoughts and that's where this blog comes in.

I love my boyfriend. We share similiar interests in politics, music, tv shows, family values, money/investing, and all that good stuff. We are actually quite compatible and he's still the best roommate I've ever had. He'll make a good daddy one day (once I'm brave enough to poke holes. haha kidding.) and he still tells me he loves me, even when he's mad at me.

I have high hopes for our future together as well as many doubts. I express the doubts in this blog frequently, but my life's not that bad. The doubts are real, don't get me wrong. I strongly feel as though domestic chores will be the death of us, but I'm thankful that's the only thing working against us. Fuck, I'd rather our biggest argument be about the dishes than a coke or gambling addiction!

January, February, March are the peak of my undiagnosed seasonal affective disorder too. The depression makes me feel like life is worse than what it actually is, or used to think it was.

Depression, mixed with anxiety, mixed with violent thoughts equals suicide. I've learned that if I just keep struggling along it will eventually pass. I bet once summer hits I won't write a single entry.

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