Lifestyles of the Poor and Anonymous

Well, I'm back. I've taken some meds, played some games online (  http://www.wildtangent.com/ ), done some deep breathing exercises, and decided I wanted to come back here and bitch some more. 

I realized I wrote like I actually have an audience or something. Is that healthy? 

Honestly I think I am so used to talking to myself at this point that it isn't a stretch of the imagination for me to be writing letters to myself now also. hahahahaha... ha . Fuck normal. 

I do know one thing. I am NOT going back on the Seroquel .. no way.. no how. 

I'll smoke grass thanks. 

ok...so yeah.

I guess I should tell you that at roughly 33 - 34 years of age, I pretty much bit the dust. I ground my gears to a halt. 

I have talked about the meds .... sort of .... and the chronic pain .. ish ..

I've written 3 posts on this blog so far and everything has been pretty meaningless information. 

And...... considering I wrote them... I couldn't tell you the first thing I wrote. Sad.

Anyways. 

There is a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

There always is. 

I, along with my siblings. Are .... Survivors. 

So because of the sensitive nature of these sorts of topics. "Survivor" Topics. I've been dancing around discussing it here.

Also, I'm not sure how much my siblings are willing to air out here. I feel very strongly about not disclosing another persons story. And I am working out how I can process my own without dragging them too far somewhere they might not be ready to go yet.

Oh Gosh, there really is so much to say. I've never known where to start. This is no exception.

I am trying really hard to just keep going through train of thought, and resist the urge to go back and edit and edit and edit and edit. and obsess, and obsess. 

Anyways. I have this need to let my story out.

I feel so strongly that I need to purge it all from my system. 

I am literally being poisoned by my past. 

Look.. maybe I am fit for the psych ward. 

I don't care. I have to try. 

I need to scream into cyber space my guilt, my shame, my anger, my hurt, my sins and all of my pain.

I have allowed the criminals who abused me, to control my life.

I take back my life. Do you hear me?!! 

It's MINE and YOU robbed me!!

Like .... I wish people could really understand what having only one life means.

what it really means.

I'm never going to get back my childhood. 

and it's not really about having my childhood per se, back.  

I just mourn the innocent trust ... that purity. 

Now, I have to sign off again. 

Ciao