October 27th, 2011


Well hello bangs ...

So last night at about 01:00, after finishing watching Santa Sangre for the ... 77th time?
I got out of bed. Half asleep. Took the scissors and cut my bangs.
This morning I forgot all about it so there was a surprise in the mirror.
W.T.F.? I thought ... took me sometime to remember ...
Well I WAS bored looking at the same hair for the past few months ... so meh

I WOULD cut it ALL off ... but there is SOMEONE who doesn't want me too :p

This is where I draw the line ...

So I a have been trying really hard not to talk about it.
But it is impossible.
My mom's been having some weird pain in her stomach for sometime now, and every-time she has it she throws up.
First we thought she ate too much. Then we thought she ate something bad. Then we thought she had a virus. But now it has gone too far and we booked time with the doctor for next Wednesday.
I want to believe it is nothing serious. But deep in my head I think of the worse case scenario.
The last 3 years have been awfully cruel to me. Mother's final step in her Manic Depression. Then my father's cancer and eventual death. Then, just 7 months after father's death, my loving boyfriend of 9 years decided to leave me. Dick move. I know. But that's how he felt. Leading to an intense summer and a devastating fall.

Now things are looking up again. I am finding myself again. I am falling in love again. I am almost alive again. Not yet, not completely, but I am getting there.
The problem though is that after every fucking awful thing that happens to me, the moment things start to look up, something awful happens yet again.

Now, if something bad happens to my mother I don't know what I'll do.
I've had fucking ENOUGH!
I am tested, over and over again.
This time I don't know what I'd do ....
I am freaking out inside ... trying to cover it up ... trying to distract myself with people, places, music, tastes.

Mother called yesterday and told me: " I don't care if I get cancer and die. I just don't want to suffer"
I fucking freaked out. Father used to say this shit all the time. And what happened? He fucking suffered. He suffered unthinkable tortures and unimaginable pain!
So I screamed at my mother on the phone and told her to shut the fuck up. Then I felt guilty for yelling at her.
But man ... really ... I can't take it anymore. I will not stand another tragedy.

This is where I draw the fucking line.