Welcome to My Sickness

He's obsessed with me.. He just doesn't know it.

        In honor of Coming Out Week, I give you my sick, little fantasy. Sometimes, I am sixteen years old. Apparently. In my world, he is obsessed with me. Do not judge me...... Out loud. Not exactly what the week is about but, I've been in the Twilight/Rob Pattinson closet long enough!!! It's totally natural a sickness. Lucky for me, I have no shame. In my defense, he makes it impossible not to adore him. He plays music, he has a beautiful singing voice, he acts and for some deity's sake, he is fucking British. I never stood a chance.

Don't believe me about the voice? Just listen to this:

*Peaks around the corner and timidly waves hello*

*Gives you some clickable stuffz and runs away*

I'd love to stay and tell you all about my wonderful life but I'm not going to because I'm tired. I have to wake up at 2:30 AM to be to work at 4 AM!!! It's insane. As in, bat shit, skipping down the street, wearing legwarmers and a tube-top (with nothing else) crazy!!! Here's something clickable. (as promised

Screw the soap box; let's stand atop mountains and hold hands while shouting, "ENOUGH!!!

"Straight Americans need... an education of the heart and soul. They must understand - to begin with - how it can feel to spend years denying your own deepest truths, to sit silently through classes, meals, and church services while people you love toss off remarks that brutalize your soul." ~Bruce Bawer, The Advocate, 28 April 1998

 A friend on a social site, I won't name [but it rhymes with Facebook] linked this story and I immediately felt ashamed of the human race in general. Before I knew it, I was writing a novella in the comment section on her page. Want to know what I think about it? I don't care if you want to, I'm sharing it anyway.

Sometimes..... I scare myself. On purpose.

This is what spooky looks like.... In case you were wondering.

I have been working on writing a book. Like a real one. With words and pages and everything. Maybe even some commas. I know, I'm impressed too. It's a murder [slash] mystery [slash] one day you'll read it and you'll figure the label type shit out for yourself type of book. If it never gets published, I'll probably end up posting it on this blog. I just finished the second to the last chapter and freaked myself out. Like seriously. Freaked. Myself. The. Hell. Out. Here's the thing

It was a Thursday

And it was full of the AWESOME!!!










See here about that Sunday, that one time. That was not teh awesome. It was the opposite of awesome.

Here's a little back story. But click that link if you get lost because I'm not in the business of repeating myself. *snicker* The police officer, we'll call him the copper, came back to my house 3 weeks after the incident. Three. Entire. Weeks. I had already succeeded in obtaining an order of protection. The Prick got an order of protection against me too. Because he is in fear of his safety from my son and myself. Which is laughable. Really. Laughable. We may be close to buddah-ish, except I kill bees and spiders. Sometimes. I'm not that scared of spiders anymore. Almost. Okay. They're still totally creepy..... Where was I?