i got off birth control and now i'm like, 10 lbs heavier in a month.
getting back on it because even tho it ruins my sex drive, being fat ruins it too. yey >> seriously i'm so fucking sick of this shit. yea i feel better typically, happier than i was on the shit, because i was getting depressed, but goddamn if i'm gonna blow up to 140 lbs again from 113, where i was happy with thighs that didn't touch and a belly that didn't go over the belt. nope. never again.
i'm switching birth control in april tho, fortunately. fuck loestrin 24fe. hello alesse [i have to have lots of androgens to keep a personality, and estrogen to keep the fat off. aaaaadorable]
i keep having these fucking insane dreams about my dad
last night, i was visiting my brother in my dream. i was at my dad's house, where my brother lives, but it was our old house [my family's] so that was weird
anyway my dad was cooking in the kitchen, and he knew i was there and i knew he was there and i knew to get to my car i'd have to go past him. so i told my brother to stay upstairs, because shit was about to go down.
he was in the bathroom. all was clear. i was about to slip out the door when i saw a really primitive cell phone--an identical copy to my boyfriend's; a blackberry rip off phone from a third party phone service--on the kitchen table. i saw that my dad had rubber banded a piece of paper that had a girl's name, his girlfriend's nonexistent daughter [she has no kids] that my mind made up. this enraged me. i NEVER got a cell phone from my dad, i bought my phone, and even tho the phone i bought myself is better than the piece of shit on the table, i knew that phone was activated, by my dad, who would continue to pay the phone bills for an adult girl who was unrelated to him entirely. he had replaced me.
i was so mad.
i waited for him to come in. he did, resumed cooking and i said,
"you know, i really hate you. you're not a father. i haven't gotten a phone call from you in over a year. you haven't tried contacting me, and i keep having fucking dreams of you. do you even have a goddamn clue what it's like for a little girl not to have her daddy?" he said: "well, i've been having seizures in my sleep 32 times a night or more so." me: "oh, that's good, i hope it's for every victim you've psychologically tortured over the past 40 years."
he went silent.
then i went fucking berserk, i started throwing shit from the refrigerator around, i tore down a key chain holder off the wall and threw it. i punched a doorframe through, and many holes in the wall. i tore the refrigerator down to the ground. i screamed, and screamed, and screamed. he just watched. afterwards he told me i was a psychotic bitch and to get out of his house.
when i was a little girl, i was ambitious. i wanted to make video games and make all the characters and the stories. i wanted to make a whole world to explore. i drew all the time when i wasn't playing games. i drew for hours every single day.
as i got older, and you can see it in my portfolios, i've drawn less and less and eventually, now, it has sizzled out. slowly drained. right now, i have no desire to draw as 'stress relief' and no desire to draw in the next month or so. this isn't an art block, i have ideas, i just don't feel like drawing them.
when i was 12, i think that was my peak. i drew ALL THE TIME and it was all really, really horrid. then i took on... improving my art.
what a horrible decision.
if i had gone on making crappy art, i think i would still be satisfied with drawing. yea it would look like shit, but...
i've procrastinated drawing since the day i decided to improve. because i hate doing it. because i hate it all.
my dream, i left behind less than a month ago. i let it slip through my fingers when i knew if i continued on, i would have a psychotic breakdown. i was so upset, so depressed, so drained. honestly, i've hardly drawn since that day. partially school, partially lack of motivation. partially reading a series of novels that have sat on my shelf for a while now, ha.
there is a masochistic side of me that wants me to continue and keep going. this part of me is what shelled out $400 for 72 art markers. this part of me is what is going to talk about copic markers for 5 minutes to a class of people who honestly DO NOT CARE about art supplies at all. i could talk about literally anything else, but i decided to talk about copic markers since i know so much about the fuckers. this part of me has also allowed me to compromise and keep it to myself and not torture myself into continuing to make it a career. i'm a hobbyist now. strange.
i'm happier fixing broken computer systems. i'm happier unscrewing, cleaning and reconnecting wires and big machines. fixing an nes i found in a ditch was the only thing that got me out of a depression last weekend. amazing. i'm back in one, but only because i'm in school. ugh. and i still feel like i'm being insulted in my art class. it hurts to an extent. i'm a bit tired of it.
been not having much an apetite for a while, today i've not eaten in 24 hours come 2 hours from now
dunno why just not feeling it
still forcing down soda, but i'm not feeling food
the thought nauseates me and idk, not feeling it
i'm really tired of this feeling, i hate being depressed for this long and i have no clue what this depression wants from me. what it desires for me to do and learn. i'm absolutely puzzled.
i feel like i should care for myself better... i have a lot of work to do today and within the week. but i don't want to and i don't care. i'm really, really tired of it all. i have an entire month to do work for school and i don't want to.
i actually contemplated going to get a diagnosis of depression just to take it to school and get some way to not fail me out
i don't know what to do. i know failing would be the dumbest thing i can do, i've given myself incentives against it. but even then, the last thing i give two shits about is passing school. and that sucks, i have a long ass way to go.