i’m so angry. i’m so mean. i expect total leeway for all shortcomings and failures, but i give none. i expect everyone to fit my tight definitions of what i desire in people, and i have such a hard time accepting–and enjoying–people for their individual selves. i expect the show always on while i’m always still adjusting my costume.

this is an easy out, but Facebook does this to me a lot. i see people’s stream of conscious, and their grammar might be bad or their topic may be obscure, and i’m frustrated: “why aren’t you the you i want you to be?!?”

and to myself. i get so mad at me. why did i make that choice? why am i afraid of the post office? why do i hate going outside?

right now i’m stuck on this tattoo. my artist called me once, it’s been a few years, and she said money’s tight. i’ll tattoo you as long as you can sit for a certain amount of money. and man was it a bargain. here’s the catch: i didn’t get the tattoo i really wanted. i sold my arm for someone else’s rent money.

why the hell did i do that? there are so many ways each and every one of us are prostitutes to something, but i actually sold skin. i am permanently marked for a big fucking mistake.

i’m trying forgiveness today. i’ve changed the name of the flower. it was supposed to be a gardenia in honor of my grandmother and my husband for sentimental reasons. i’ve come to realize it looks more like a camellia. flipping through a flower book trying to see if there was something i wanted to paint, i saw a magic answer. it said that camellias mean “you’re adorable.”

forgive me, Chrissy; i’m adorable.


Facebook is my best friend and my worst enemy.
I have little outside life because of my disabilities, so I live on Facespace for social interaction and support groups dedicated to my issues. I have made some amazing connections on Faceblank, and even gone to visit a friend in person—it can be an amazing tool, but the flip-side is that it’s a tool.
How many times have you made such great friends only to discover serious issues? I meet someone in a group, we agree to PM, and we have a great time! Then they start talking about their family’s love of guns and that they’re getting 2nd Amendment signs for their yard to prove how pro-firearm they are. Oh. Wow. Total friendship killer when Faceidiocy reveals the vast, huge, glaring gaps in your fundamental values!
But what about the real connections Facebook brings? What about the long chats, the daily check-ins, the plans to visit? And then bam. They’re gone. You’re blocked. They completely cut off contact with no explanation why. You were told you were such a special friend, you felt so flattered, but no, in the end, you were their gun-toting friend—I guess.
I just got flushed from Facejunk by a “very close friend.” A bestie. A “we get each other so we can tell each other anything.”
As crushed as I am, believe it or not, I am trying to be mature. I am trying to suck it up and say “It’s only the internet after all.” But most of what I have in life is only the internet, so how not to feel blanked out?
Life will go on… with valium and lemonade.