Treading water.

I hate what I've become.

I'm back on Prozac because honestly, I don't want to live anymore. The endless cycle continues; my highs are awesome, but my lows seem to be getting lower and lasting longer. I cry all the time. I'm stressed, anxious, worried about everything. My stomach hurts all the time. I have nightmares almost every night. I don't enjoy...anything. I don't even listen to music anymore. My self-esteem is nonexistent. I feel totally and completely alone, even though I'm not. I want to talk about it, but to what end? It doesn't make me feel any better. I want someone to help me, but...how? There's nothing that will help. I don't even know how to exist anymore. Pretending I'm okay makes me feel more alone, but being honest about how I feel makes me feel like a burden. I'm starting to go numb. I feel like my inner self is curled up in a corner with her head down and her hands over her ears and all the negativity inside me is just a dull, muffled roar.

Tomorrow is the start of National Novel Writing Month. I'm hoping I won't have time to feel anything.

In Loving Memory

In the days leading up to PAX when I was starting to fret about shit like how I'd get back to the airport, DP was the one who kept saying "Just get here. Everything will work out." It was awesome to get to put a real person to my drunk-text buddy and the guy who (didn't remember that he) popped my WP Halo cherry. He's a really awesome guy to be around and I'd even go to Florida to chill with him.

That's what I wrote in my PAX Peeps Recap after my trip to Seattle in September of '10.

Chris Brown, aka D34THP1MP72 or just DP, was a staple of my gaming group, The WorkPLace. He was loud, crude, trash-talking, lightning-quick with a hilarious insult or comeback. He was also kind, supportive, and genuine. He was a blast to game with and always the first to assure me that it didn't matter how bad I was, we were playing to have fun, and have fun we did. He was a good friend who got me through some of my toughest times, either just by being there for me or in his own style of "Shut up, you're being stupid, everything's gonna be okay." He was a man who loved his friends and wasn't afraid to say it.

I'm so glad I went to PAX last year. Glad I got the chance to track him down at the airport and lead him to the wine bar to wait for the rest of the limo crew. Glad I got to laze around his hotel room with him and Pat Friday morning and, from the patio, bust a couple getting busy in the pool (at ten AM, seriously guys?). Glad I got to stand around outside the Taphouse with him Saturday night, entirely shitfaced, smoking and bullshitting with our friends. Glad that Sunday night he said that he hadn't been down to the Pike Street Market, so a handful of us went for a walk, clear out till we could see the sound. Glad I got a few minutes alone with him on the patio, smoking and talking about what an amazing weekend it had been and how much it meant to both of us to get to spend it with our friends.

I can't believe he's gone. I miss his voice, his sense of humor, his bitching and swearing. I miss him saying "No" for no reason, or strolling into a random thread and posting "I'm gonna have to lock this." I miss being on XBOX Live and getting invites from him for games that he knew damn well I didn't have. I miss my friend.

RIP Christoper Wayne Brown 5/23/72-10/14/11. Spartans never die, they just go MIA.

I know I'm not easy but I thought I was worth it.

I'm difficult.

I hate hearing about your exes in any context.

I'l get upset if you mention that you find another girl - ANY other girl - attractive.

I need frequent reassurance.

It doesn't take much to hurt my feelings.

I get insanely jealous and possessive.

I require a lot of time and attention.


I don't like that these things are who I am. But they are. And loving me means loving those things too.