i fucking hate everything

most of the time, i can just ignore the fact that i'm going to die alone.  it's not really a big deal most of the time.

but then sometimes i remember that, and wonder how everyone else found people and got married and all that shit.

so i looked up some 'how do you date when you're an adult', and one of the suggestions some asshole came up with was 'i asked 20 of my friends to set me up with a friend.'

who the fuck has 20 friends that they can ask that kind of thing?  is that a thing people do?  people have enough friends that they can choose "only 20" of them for something like this?




i probably need to go back to therapy or try new drugs or something, b/c i'm probably more suicidal than i'm willing to admit.

Prison.com: Prologue

The Prison.com: Prologue
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/p/my-stories.html

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The Exhibition: Voting

The Exhibition: Voting
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2016/11/the-exhibition-voting.html

The Exhibition: Writing

The Exhibition: Writing
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2016/02/the-exhibition-writing.html

so i guess i'm going to try therapy again.

the panic attacks and intrusive thoughts got really too far up for me to ignore them.  so i took a very old ambien and called up the brain doctor receptionist to get me scheduled for next year.

"you general practitioner can give you all kinds of useful brain drugs.  have you talked to her about that?"

no?  that's an option?  "i would like more ambien, please.  also all the xanax.  please?"  doesn't that make me look like some sort of junky?

i mean, not that i'm super sober sammy all the time anyway.  just.  can you just ask for powerful mind altering drugs?

and if so, why don't we let everyone have these?  if i go from suicidally off to calm and normal after taking a pill, why is that something we prevent other people from having?

ok, sure, you're going to bring up the old opium cough syrup that made my mind explode in sinus clearing rapture.

how is that opium spawned peace any better than the peace i try to steal from alcohol?

this is a mess, and a good reason to not share blogs with therapists.

who will probably tell me unhappy things when I see her next year.

let's all cross our fingers that i can break through some shit and not be such a fucking waste all the time.

wow it's super late, how drunk are you, sammy?

not enough?  or not normal drunk?  turns out if i don't take sleepy pills, i don't get sufficiently sleepy.

which means i'm in that weird place between "not drunk enough to be incoherent" and "too panicked to say anything".

"somewhere in that zone"

part of it is that i have a day off tomorrow, because hawaii is great, and we had a king, and he did a bunch of stuff, and so now i get a thursday off.

not friday though.  so back to work for a totally productive day on friday.  hawaii doesn't slide holidays around.


since i'm so wonderful at writing stuff, and totally not waiting a year to write things i've planned out, i'm thinking about doing a new story.

but like, not really porn.

just romance, i guess.  also maybe horror.  i have a weird brain, and nothing can ever be not not wonderful if not also tragic.

the idea would be to actually plan an entire story from start to finish, and then start writing, instead of my random incremental stuff.  i have not done much of that planning at all, so i'll have to put some effort into not being stupid about this.

so, you know, we'll all see how it goes.  maybe i write more, and people read it and like it.

maybe i don't.

i really just wanted the first frame, where elsa is doing a shruggy pose, but google image search only had this, which has words.  and is also a gif, so it's way more positive and empowering than i was hoping for.  mostly just that one shrug, ok?

tuesday morning dream stuff

do i put these behind a cut?  looks like no.  this one is a bit weird, and i'm probably forgetting details that might make it less weird.  also, it starts off horror, and then turns into romance.  because brain?  anyway:

--

i'm in a new town.  i'm wandering down the streets, with all sorts of closed shops and things.  suddenly, a bunch of people come running around a corner.  "don't go that way!"  they continue past me, and i wander into the intersection to see what's going on.  more people are there, but they're dismembered and bleeding, or stuck in the walls and street.

because it's literally a "new town."  it's still being constructed in the dream, and as the buildings and blocks form, they're killing anyone who's trapped in that area.  i turn back to where i came from, and despite there not being enough time for this to happen, one of the streets is now blocked off with cardboard boxes and things that are taped to the walls, and extend up to the tops of the building.  the people who ran past did this to make sure no one went down the bad street.

i find the building i came out of, but there's shouting and stuff coming from inside.  it feels like a bank, maybe, and i'm at the "back alley side door" that banks totally have.  i open the door a crack, and there's a guy inside with a gun who'd taken everyone hostage.  he rushes toward me, but i pull a pen from my pocket and stab him.  like a bunch.  i remember feeling the pen tip hit a rib, and then slide toward a gap to continue in.  that gave me a new target to aim for.

i half wake up, because this is pretty messed up.

--

it's later.  the town is finished, although it's always dark here, because it's under a highway intersection.  my house is two blocks away from that bank, and one evening, i decide to go buy a book.  i don't bother putting on shoes, because the book store is next door to my house.

i wander around the book store, when i notice another girl looking at similar books as me.  we start talking, and we have a bunch of things in common.  we leave the book store (and we both had groups of friends there at this point, but we ditch them), and are running around in a park.  it's night time now, way later than it should be if time worked right.

she comes up with a "game" to play.  she picks up a long hard stick, and chases me around and spanks my butt with it.  i grab my own stick, and use it to defend myself, and to spank her.  she's using hers like a baseball bat, kind of.  mine is more flexible, and i'm holding one end, "underhand" if that makes sense, so that when i flex my wrist, it whips out to my side.

we eventually collapse into a pile on the ground, laughing.  i say something about going home, and she says, "no, this is where i live."  i'm confused, but then she kind of melts into the ground, because she's a fairy.  a city park fairy, who lives next to that one bush, i guess.  i'm still confused, but i get up, and walk to the street, where i meet her friends, who are going home to the park (they're fairies too).

i wake up for real here, with the standard sad feeling of loneliness i get after these kind of dreams.

The Exhibition: Illness

The Exhibition: Illness
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2015/04/the-exhibition-illness.html