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Fourteen Missed Calls. Three new voicemails. Four new text messages.

For the love of hell, I can't even sleep a measly six hours without the whole world crashing down. Granted it may have been my fault for going to sleep at eleven in the morning, instead of the usual four, but regardless, it's like people think I won't keep in touch with them if I'm left to my own devices for too long.

The majority of the missed calls are from Alex. I vaguely remember the phone going off in the middle of my dreams of purple hamsters, and my automatic reaction to pressing the silent key. I look down the list, she seemed to have called almost ten times in a row. I text her, worried slightly.

"Hey I have a bunch of missed calls, is everything okay?"

"Ya I was checking on you." I get back, less than a minute later.

See? What did I tell you? Even my friends feel the need to call ten times in a row just to check on me, to make sure that I either haven't made camp in my delusions and said adios to reality or that I didn't say fuck the world and made some dramatic suicidal gesture that will be sure to make the morning papers.

Something suddenly feels wet between my thighs. Well okay, that's odd, I figure to myself. Considering I remember my dream consisted of a purple hampster, I don't think that would have made me horny in my sleep. I stick my hand down my pants to check, which is lady like, I know. My hand comes out bloody.

As disgusted as I was by that stupid move on my own part, it also made me kind of confused. Usually days before my period I know it's coming, and hell whenever I start I'm usually in so much pain I can barely move and I'm cursing my own existance in this world for hours at a time. But I felt nothing... at all. For the first time in my life in almost ten years I had no cramps, just blood.

Alex sends me another text, asking me if I ate today, I reply with no, but I just started started m rag and have no toilet paper and only one tampon. Which, unfortutanly, is very true. I had to clean myself up with a mcdonalds napkin and shove the cotten phalis in me to stop my unfortunate curse of womanhood I get monthly. This is what my life had become, ladies and gentleman.

Alex tells me shes on her way with toilet paper and tampons.

This is why I love my friends, really.

I have texts from my sister, asking me to call her. I want to, but on the other hand I don't. Part of me doesn't want to face the decisions I'm going to have to make sooner or later. And at the moment, I chose later.

I have a text from my old dope dealer, which aggrivates me slightly.

"What up? I got better and I owe u."

Damn right you owe me mother fucker, the last shit you gave me was crap. But I don't text back, I ignore it, as hard as that is to do.

Later on in the evening, Alex and John take me to Kroger to go pick up my money at Western Union that my mother sent me.

"Maybe I should pick up some groceries, it'll be less money than buying fast food all the time."

I haven't had groceries since I lived on my own, in my own apartment, when everything in my life was going right. It was an odd sensation, grocery shopping again. I actually got sort of giddy. I ran around the store with my cart and jumped up and down and had fun trying to find sales. I could tell it amused Alex, me finding such a small joy in such a simple thing as grocery shopping.

I get another text from my Mom, and I forgot the deal she made with me for giving me this money was that we would talk every day.

"WHERE R U MY MARY? CALL ASAP NEED 2 TALK."

I sigh, it's a sad day when my mom texts. She types like a twelve year old girl. I call my mom, she askes if I'm okay and got the money. I tell her yes, and yes. She tells me to call my sister, I say I will when I'm done shopping.

But then I'm back in my room, alone, with all my food, watching "The Lord of The Rings: Return of the King" on TNT and now I suddenly remember why I don't do the grocery shopping thing. When I have food in the house, I tend to want to eat... well... everything.

Donuts, cocoa, candy, crackers, a sandwich, icecream.

And I wonder why I never lost a significant amount of weight during my meth habit. Whenever I was sober, I would eat like a starving child from Etheopia.

I'm still supposed to be calling my sister. I procrastinate, and call my brother.

"Mom told me to tell you Shaya's waiting up for your phone call tonight."

Damnit. I'm starting to get sleepy, so I text my sister and tell her I'll call her when I wake up. She tells me she'll wait up until one. I wake up at two, and text her an apology. I have to call her when I wake up later in the afternoon, I can't keep blowing her off like this.

I have another text from my neice Nicole.

"I love you and you always have my support. See you soon. I'll help with the ticket if I need too."

I don't text back. It's a fucked up hour of the night anyway. But I feel bad. I already owe her $100, the last thing I want is to owe her more money. My debts to people have already surpassed a grand, and I'm not liking it very much. I feel like a failure, and it makes me slightly angry, and very much self loathing.

There's nothing to do anymore by myself that I find fun anymore. I watch TV, and try to get on the computer. I try to find another place to host my videos since YouTube decided to fuck up everything and ban me from the website, which I keep having mixed feelings about. But I get bored with it, with the internet, with the thing that used to keep me entertained for hours at a time. Back to the tv. Get bored. Back to the computer. Get even more bored. Back to the TV. It's never ending.

I can't even find joy in anything anymore, it seems. I feel like I'm just sitting here, wasting my life away, and I am. I wish I could find one thing, just one thing, that I could find joy in and escape from reality... but I just can't.

I'm just part of the scenery now.

Labels: depression, dope, friends, groceries, money, periods, sadness, shopping, text messaging

Fourteen Missed Calls. Three new voicemails. Four new text messages.

For the love of hell, I can't even sleep a measly six hours without the whole world crashing down. Granted it may have been my fault for going to sleep at eleven in the morning, instead of the usual four, but regardless, it's like people think I won't keep in touch with them if I'm left to my own devices for too long.

The majority of the missed calls are from Alex. I vaguely remember the phone going off in the middle of my dreams of purple hamsters, and my automatic reaction to pressing the silent key. I look down the list, she seemed to have called almost ten times in a row. I text her, worried slightly.

"Hey I have a bunch of missed calls, is everything okay?"

"Ya I was checking on you." I get back, less than a minute later.

See? What did I tell you? Even my friends feel the need to call ten times in a row just to check on me, to make sure that I either haven't made camp in my delusions and said adios to reality or that I didn't say fuck the world and made some dramatic suicidal gesture that will be sure to make the morning papers.

Something suddenly feels wet between my thighs. Well okay, that's odd, I figure to myself. Considering I remember my dream consisted of a purple hampster, I don't think that would have made me horny in my sleep. I stick my hand down my pants to check, which is lady like, I know. My hand comes out bloody.

As disgusted as I was by that stupid move on my own part, it also made me kind of confused. Usually days before my period I know it's coming, and hell whenever I start I'm usually in so much pain I can barely move and I'm cursing my own existance in this world for hours at a time. But I felt nothing... at all. For the first time in my life in almost ten years I had no cramps, just blood.

Alex sends me another text, asking me if I ate today, I reply with no, but I just started started m rag and have no toilet paper and only one tampon. Which, unfortutanly, is very true. I had to clean myself up with a mcdonalds napkin and shove the cotten phalis in me to stop my unfortunate curse of womanhood I get monthly. This is what my life had become, ladies and gentleman.

Alex tells me shes on her way with toilet paper and tampons.

This is why I love my friends, really.

I have texts from my sister, asking me to call her. I want to, but on the other hand I don't. Part of me doesn't want to face the decisions I'm going to have to make sooner or later. And at the moment, I chose later.

I have a text from my old dope dealer, which aggrivates me slightly.

"What up? I got better and I owe u."

Damn right you owe me mother fucker, the last shit you gave me was crap. But I don't text back, I ignore it, as hard as that is to do.

Later on in the evening, Alex and John take me to Kroger to go pick up my money at Western Union that my mother sent me.

"Maybe I should pick up some groceries, it'll be less money than buying fast food all the time."

I haven't had groceries since I lived on my own, in my own apartment, when everything in my life was going right. It was an odd sensation, grocery shopping again. I actually got sort of giddy. I ran around the store with my cart and jumped up and down and had fun trying to find sales. I could tell it amused Alex, me finding such a small joy in such a simple thing as grocery shopping.

I get another text from my Mom, and I forgot the deal she made with me for giving me this money was that we would talk every day.

"WHERE R U MY MARY? CALL ASAP NEED 2 TALK."

I sigh, it's a sad day when my mom texts. She types like a twelve year old girl. I call my mom, she askes if I'm okay and got the money. I tell her yes, and yes. She tells me to call my sister, I say I will when I'm done shopping.

But then I'm back in my room, alone, with all my food, watching "The Lord of The Rings: Return of the King" on TNT and now I suddenly remember why I don't do the grocery shopping thing. When I have food in the house, I tend to want to eat... well... everything.

Donuts, cocoa, candy, crackers, a sandwich, icecream.

And I wonder why I never lost a significant amount of weight during my meth habit. Whenever I was sober, I would eat like a starving child from Etheopia.

I'm still supposed to be calling my sister. I procrastinate, and call my brother.

"Mom told me to tell you Shaya's waiting up for your phone call tonight."

Damnit. I'm starting to get sleepy, so I text my sister and tell her I'll call her when I wake up. She tells me she'll wait up until one. I wake up at two, and text her an apology. I have to call her when I wake up later in the afternoon, I can't keep blowing her off like this.

I have another text from my neice Nicole.

"I love you and you always have my support. See you soon. I'll help with the ticket if I need too."

I don't text back. It's a fucked up hour of the night anyway. But I feel bad. I already owe her $100, the last thing I want is to owe her more money. My debts to people have already surpassed a grand, and I'm not liking it very much. I feel like a failure, and it makes me slightly angry, and very much self loathing.

There's nothing to do anymore by myself that I find fun anymore. I watch TV, and try to get on the computer. I try to find another place to host my videos since YouTube decided to fuck up everything and ban me from the website, which I keep having mixed feelings about. But I get bored with it, with the internet, with the thing that used to keep me entertained for hours at a time. Back to the tv. Get bored. Back to the computer. Get even more bored. Back to the TV. It's never ending.

I can't even find joy in anything anymore, it seems. I feel like I'm just sitting here, wasting my life away, and I am. I wish I could find one thing, just one thing, that I could find joy in and escape from reality... but I just can't.

I'm just part of the scenery now.

Labels: depression, dope, friends, groceries, money, periods, sadness, shopping, text messaging

My name is Mary. I'm a 24 year old creative mess. I like to tell stories in anyway that I can, though mostly through visual artwork. I enjoy film editing, writing, modeling, photography, dancing, and website design. I'm a lesbian. I'm bipolar. I'm stronger than I usually give myself credit for. I'm a recovering drug addict. I'm passionate as all hell. I'm a beautiful disaster. I want to be free. I want to fly.

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