bluefairee =drama. that is what i just learned today. last i heard his parents still didn't know about me or what was going on. they know i exist, but not the rest. not that i'm here now. i'm the secret. the one people keep under their beds, in their closets or in a vault under lock and key. that is me.
i just talked to a friend of his very briefly after his mom. he asked how i was doing and i asked if he read journals on slashdot. his reply was that he read mine a few weeks ago and stopped...it was way too much drama for him. oh,yeah and to be nice to dave because he's a very protective friend.
for all of you out there who love or care deeply for dave, some where deep down or even on the surface, i'm a disease. aids. a bitch to fight, no cure, and basically deadly. i'm the cancer that everyone is trying to fix or remove.
drama. for all those who think i'm drama, you'd never have made it to 30 in my shoes. i think my family is drama and i'm the one wtth my shit togetehr. maybe that will give you a better perspective of what i've lived with and what i'm fighting against.
it is for this very reason i don't share my life. i keep my journals and my space with plenty of thick walls. i didn't want people dealing with my 'drama'. if dave haadn't called the police you all would have him just the way he was before i came here. i'm not stupid i know that there are thosse of you who wish it...even if you feel bad when you do. the thoughts are still there.
i didn't want to deal with this. i wanted out before my walls came tumbling down. they are almost gone and as a result i'm a pain in the ass. i here shallow words of encouragement. mostly i hear don't hurt dave, he's a good guy, he's trying to help. i agree.
has anyone considered looking at what you type from my prostestive after everything that has happened and how my life has been more torn up and turned up side down then his? i know he's trying to help. i know he's a good guy. i know i need to try to make his life easier, but do ya really think i didnt think about that before i got here? that i wasn't scared to death and am still not scared to death by what's being uncovered in therapy and how it reeks havik on my life that i have to somehow figure out how to control before he gets home.
maybe you do and maybe you don't. all i know is i feel like the lowest form of life that feeds off of the forms of life that already eat shit.
i opened myself up hear because doctors adn friends thought it would be good for me. whatever i type is open to comments by anyone for anything they want to say. i am a human wound that is oozing, bleeding, screaming, getting ganegreen, and just generally wishing i didn't exist. i don't have room for being called a drama queen or for people to say i'm looking for attention. for those of you who think it...this is my last journal. if anyone else wants to talk to me, then email me or im. that's a sure way to tell who is true adn who is full of shit. so later gater...have a nice life;
one mor ting...KISS MY NATUAL BLACK FUCKING ASS...YOU ASSHOLES!!! is that enuf capitl leters and mis spelin for u?