Inspirational Conspriacy

Against my years of denial of what must have been the case(s), this year I allowed myself to be diagnosed mentally ill by a credentialed doctor. I have been reading this big book called "Living Well" with a subtitle I am choosing not to disclose... The stigma is alive and well like the tech industry. They must be related. A lot happened this year to me so far. My grandfather died. I crashed my car. My Dad's business partner from a drug overdose. "He left her with all of his shit," they said. I reread my other blogs, as I usually do instead of reading the sustained minds of professions. I deleted my latest blog in this fit of rage. I must not have read far back enough last year. So much has happened that I can't differentiate them mostly because they include the presence of one person. The previous two years I made and lost significant people in my life and they were all female. Their exit introduced a new male in to my life. Of course, we fell in love with each other. We have either passed that or have given up on it and are using each other because we don't want to "be alone." I think it might be impossible to be alone at this day and age in our story book. Where do I even start? I could write about the wedding. I could write about the title. I have one hour and fifteen minutes before people come home and I have to stop being myself I feel infinitely betrayed by my mother. Seeing her this way makes me want to revert to my old, obviously happier ways of dependency. Now that I'm not allowed to be dependent on things I have nothing. I have nothing because I'm not making anything of it. I read my old blogs with constant self-reminders about the road that I was on. Recently my vehicle has broke down on the side of the road and I decided to kick it for a while. My dream had become a reality for a little while there. I was able to partake in an organic little garden of love, companionship, friendship, and sex. In late blogs I was a single fireball till I met another. Now we are too hot to be of any use. We should separate and slingshot each other into dark caverns and sharp crevices like the Spring St. exit off the 101N... if you've never turned off of it, just plan on the fuckass u-turn you're about to make and settle with getting it next time. Tangent. Anyway, I'm trying to say that we are being selfish with each other and it makes neither of us happy. The incredible sex is becoming less and less worth it, or is it because it is becoming less and less incredible, or is it because it never was because we were both celibate prior? Is this what getting hitched must be like? Responsible and stressful? That seems not worth it... He is leaving and I could have gone with him. If I accepted his reach the day of the invite I could be here, now. I didn't accept the help because I didn't really want it. Now look at me, blubbering in solitude as if they last years showed me nothing. Based on my actions, they really didn't. The breeze carries my tears off my face and drops them more visibly on this gray T-shirt. The volume of liquid is not equivalent to the ounces that gush from my cunt. Something we experienced together. Something we'll both forget if we leave each other's lives. At the rate we had been seeing each other, I could not tell you where I'd be without him. I told him once before and he told me to shut up, snap out of it, or get over it. I started it... My feet are dirty and happy. I feel safe at this house, only because I now know that they won't say a thing and I enjoy the silence. I yearn for sprouting tunes of mindful voices and genuine conversation in these walls by no one else but us. I can't say that I'd become an alcoholic too if my entire family died in the span of the last five years. Now we HAVE to be friends in order to not be alone. "…to simply tolerate another out of loneliness and call this one friend - how pathetic!"- Wolfi Landstreicher