And living in general. And my mother. No icon this time I just don’t feel like it. Like most days now I went up to Cynthia’s to eat. My mother was here yesterday, don’t know why she came over and stayed the night, but she did, though she barely spoke to me or even saw me. Most of the time she was on the couch watching TV. This morning she made garlic bread and left the pan on the stove. When I got home from Cynthia’s at around 8 I saw it there and decided to move it because I don’t like things on the stove, particularly heavy things. It’s a messed up old stove. Like if you pull down the oven door too quickly or forcefully the whole thing tips forward, and the top part with the oven dials is separating from the bottom part where the burns are, which is why I don’t like things on it to make it any worse. So I moved it and set it down with some other kitchen stuff, near the crock pot. I didn’t see the crock pots heavy glass lid there, and when I put the pan down the lid fell on to the top of my foot. That’s what started all this. I have accidents all the time, every day actually. This isn’t the first time I’ve smashed a body part. I’ve been lucky so far, at least in the past few years and had no serious injuries, but I always worry, especially when I hurt myself. I’m always alone, and even though I do have free health care provided by the state, if something bad happened I probably wouldn’t get any help. The lids edge landed right where the foot ends and the big toe starts. It hurt like hell (still hurts of course) and I was afraid I might have fractured it. When I’m worried there’s really nothing to do but tell someone just to talk, to get reassurance, and to let them know what happened, just so they know. I didn’t call my mom at first, I called Cynthia. Basically the only time I got medical attention for an accident (I fractured my ankle on a school field trip) I was with her. Had I been with my mother then it probably never would have happened. My mom was out in Arizona with her boyfriend then. She had left me with my great aunt (who we both had been living with) and moved back. I didn’t have health care (I think this is the first time I’ve ever had it) but my aunt still took me to the hospital. I’ve always known with my mother that no matter what happened I wouldn’t get any help with her. So Cynthia is my first choice to call. After I spoke with her I was still worried so I broke down and called my mom. I never should have called her. But no matter what she’s still my mother, and unfortunately I still love her, and I’m weak. I hate myself for making such a stupid move. At first she was sympathetic, and said she was coming down to see me even though I told her not to. She’s often had the proper mother sentiment even if she hasn’t had the actions to back it up. She called back a few minutes later and said she didn’t think she could come down because she’d been drinking. I didn’t really think she’d actually come to see me, she’s never cared when I’ve been unwell or hurt before, but it was a nice thought, my mother actually being near me. She immediately turned it into about her. That guilting, self serving crap “tell me you love me tell me you love me” “tell me you’re alright tell me you’re alright” Then saying “I’ll come down, I would come down but…” All just so she can feel better about herself. After having to go through all that for like 5 minutes I finally broke down crying and said exactly what I said here “I never should have called you.” And that really started the waterworks. She thinks she has cancer, colon cancer specifically. Could she? Yes, of course. Cancer runs in our family big time. My aunt had eye cancer, and my grandmother had breast and pancreatic cancer, that’s just what I know about. She’s also going on 50. So yes she could have cancer. Do I believe she has cancer? I’ll believe it when I great a straight answer out of her. She first told me she wants me to go live with stay with my great aunt Laura in Maryland, who I barely know. It’s not the first time she’s tried to unload me. I was half raised by my great aunt Cynthia and my grandmother, I only really spent any time with my mom during the many times we moved to Arizona (we kept moving back here) when she wasn’t with Matt-freak that was. She said it was because she’s sick and has cancer. I flipped then. I usually try to keep my cool, because there’s no point in arguing with that person, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying yes, you’re always sick, but no one else is. If you get dizzy you say you’re having a heart attack, and now she has cancer. She said she really is sick. I asked her if a doctor told her that, and I couldn’t understand her very well because drunk people babble, and it’s even worse when they’re crying, but the first time she said yes, she knew she does, and the second time I asked her she said she had to get the test done. I could go on like that forever and each time she’d say something different because drunk people are never clear, especially drunk pathological liars. She said again she wants me to go with Laura because she wants me to be taken care of, since she can’t right now and can’t even work because of it. And she’s worried because she’s always taken care of me. Why does she think she has cancer? Because she can’t go to the bathroom. She used to always have diarrhea and now she’s constipate and and she says she can’t go to the bathroom at all and she’s in pain. Cynthia blames it on her drinking herself stupid and not eating. She also watched on old episode of Dr Oz this morning, and the first segment was about cancer pains, and since she has all the symptoms she immediately said she has colon cancer. Last Thursday she was talking about looking for a job, and having someone move in with us (which is the thing from the last few posts), and even today she was talking about having roommates, wondering whether to keep the Showtime package so she can watch Dexter, and saying she has to clean because we still need our water fixed (we’ve had barely any water except a trickle from the shower for almost a year now) and now she has cancer. Obviously I don’t believe her. Of course she could have cancer. My poor great aunt Cynthia who I worry about constantly, has had it before, and has spots on her lungs, could have cancer. My aunt Cyndy who bakes herself out in the sun and smokes like a fiend could have cancer. I, with my constant headaches, dizziness, and walking into walls and everything else could have cancer. Do any of us? (If there’s a God in heaven I do or will soon, fingers crossed) I won’t believe it until a doctor actually says it. I particularly won’t believe it from my mother until it’s actually confirmed. Part of it is her hypochondria, part of it is bitterness. She always says something is wrong with her, and is always complaining about something. And I mean always. That’s the bitterness part of it. She’s so self centered. Like when I called and needed her she immediately turned the whole thing into a Pam Pity Party. I’m so used to hearing her complain about everything and saying she has this sickness, and she has that sickness. When she has a problem it’s the end of the world, and she suffers so much. She’s not even interested in helping herself, she just wants to complain about it, guilt other people into sympathizing with her. She was supposed to get a tests done in December and never did. Then the doctor was trying once again to have her go get tests done a few months ago. And even now has she gone to get the test done? I couldn’t get an answer out of her, but the last thing she said was that she still needed the test. I called Cynthia right after I spoke with my mother because I was in a horrible state. She said if she really thinks something is wrong then she should shut up and go to the hospital to find out. She said if my mom called back not to answer it, and I told her I didn’t plan to. I don’t want to talk to her. My mom did say she would call back in a few minutes, after she finally did decide to hang up, but I didn’t think she would and she hasn’t. More “I’m so sick *drunk babbling* you don’t believe me, no I’m just making this up for the fun of it *drunk babbling* I’m going to get help I just want you to be taken care of” (oh, yes, please have a hit put out on me and put me out of my misery). I so wanted to right then and there just to drink all that przc, but I’m such a coward. I’m so afraid of having a seizure, or seriously messing myself up instead. I know I’m not a good person, but I don’t believe I’m a very bad person either. I don’t see why I deserve this. Why oh why are there no tall buildings around here? Did God get his messages crossed, I’m the one who desperately wants to die. It might sound mean or selfish to talk like this about my mom when she said she has cancer, but please spare me you’re ridiculous PPP comments. You don’t know me, my life, or my mother, it’s not the first time she’s said she was sick and was actually fine. I will believe her when she says she went to the doctor and this is her diagnosis. Until then I will not pander to an attention hound. Now I have to go lay back down, try to make my foot comfortable, and get to sleep.
Schneizel isn’t too happy either. I don’t know what’s going on. My mom called yesterday, about a half an hour after I went out with Cynthia. I called when I got back and she said she’d see me tomorrow (now today) since she gets paid. So did she get fired from her job? Well, she called at 3:03, so if she was in Dormont she wasn’t at work then. And she gets paid on Thursdays. Not to mention the fact that she wasn’t at work for at least half the last week, and she never stopped buy or called, so she didn’t bring any milk or food from there (when she has food stamps) and didn’t call. So I still believe she isn’t working. We’ll see if she calls or comes by today like she said she would, it’s going on 4:30 right now. She also didn’t mention the thing she mentioned before, which I’m still not going to talk about. Right now I’m in wait and see mode, but regardless of what does and does not happen I think the best option is to do it now before the medication affect is anymore diluted. I moved the icons that were in the last post to this one. So they’re after the preview and the jump.
Last week I made some more icons including anime. So I uploaded them all a couple days ago. 145 Bleach icons: Kuchiki Byakuya, Kurosaki Ichigo, and Nel Tu / Neliel Tu Oderschvank, 75 Okane ga Nai manga: Kanou Somuku and Kuba Homare, 32 Code Geass: young V.V. and young Emperor Charles zi/di Britannia, C.C., Jeremiah Gottwald, and Lelouch Lamperouge / vi Britannia, 7 Maria Sharapova icons, and 99 Taka ga Koi daro of Sawaragi. I was going to do the rest of the manga with him, and start Aiso Tsukashi, but…
And it won’t. Ever. I’ve known that for a while. I ran out of hope a long time ago. My health, physical and mental, and my situation continued to go downhill barely without pausing and never improving. I’m not going to waste the energy to explain everything because there isn’t a point. I’ll just say that it started earlier this year when my mom met that jackass down at the bar, started going out drinking every night until early in the morning, and practically living with a guy she barely knew. About a week ago she either was fired from her job or quit. She’s going on 50 years old, but she’s as irresponsible as ever. Though nothing could top the most irresponsible, selfish thing she ever did, which was having me. My great aunt Cynthia said I could live with her, but that won’t work. I’ve lived and stayed with her several times before because of my irresponsible mother (like when she left me with her and moved across the country to live with her boyfriend, who she had split up with and moved back half a year before, that wasn’t the first or last time she did that). She doesn’t have cable, internet, or air conditioning, and while it may sound, I don’t know, superficial, I actually have very little. I don’t own a cell phone, ipod, or video games, I get new clothes and shoes once every couple of years. I already lost food, all I have is television and internet (and with it my manga and anime), without them I really have nothing left. Cynthia is also quite old, and while I don’t like to think about it, I don’t know how much time she has left. I would gladly take her place and all her ailments. There are other reasons as well. I did hope that I would die on my own. Now I see that’s not going to happen any time soon, and I don’t have the option to wait any longer. I’ve known for years that I would die young, but like I was wishing I’d die on my own, or at least end up where an opportunity (in the form of a tall building) would present itself. Jumping is my method of choice, it and gun are the best. They’re the quickest, least painful, and have the best success rate. Slitting and ingesting are the worst, and unfortunately the only options I have. I did start crying when my mom called to tell me she was finally going to destroy me completely, I did my best to hide it from her. I try to never cry in front of other people. It’s weak. If pandas had red around their eyes instead of black, that’s what I’d look like right now, so many veins burst. It’s not the dying part that I find sad, I accepted it a long time ago so the idea is calming. It’s the method. If there was a building around here I would have happily jumped off it years ago. I tried to think of some way I could jump, and came up with a couple ideas but I’m really not sure how high they are. I remember walking by one place and thinking “wow you could kill yourself if you jumped from here” but it has a tall fence around it, precisely for that reason (I think someone actually did jump from there). So not only would I have to walk there in the middle of the night, but either cut the fence, or climb the it and drop myself off from there. Not very practical or as nice as simply stretching your arms our like a bird and falling. I don’t have it in me to cut myself open. So the only choice left is to drink as much of the bottle of liquid prozac I have and hope for the best. It expired in April so it’s not as strong, and seizures are one of the side effects of overdosing, which is why I didn’t do it earlier. I should never have read the side effects. That’s why I’m so upset (that and I’m so furious at my mother). I could end up having a seizure, or just throwing the crap up, and my attempt is wasted. All I want to do is die, this should be easier. People die all the time. People who want to live too. I want to die but still continue on pathetically. I watched a documentary the other day called Boy Interrupted, about a bipolar teen who killed himself. I do watch them occasionally, docs on suicide, and since I’ve been my most death wishing ever recently I did. When he was little he said he wished he’d get cancer, which is something I think a lot. Lot’s of people who want to live get cancer, why don’t I get it instead of one of them? Spare someone who deserves to live and give it to someone who doesn’t. I would have gladly had pancreatic cancer in place of my precious grandmother. Those docs are always full of such annoying people. They all go “how could someone do something like this” and I’m thinking “I’m so jealous.” He’s lucky he’s dead, he got what he wanted. Be happy that his suffering is over. Everyone’s all about preventing suicide. People should mind their own business, even if they are related. As long as it doesn’t interfere with anyone else, a persons life is their own to do what they want with, and it’s completely within their rights to end it. Anyone who has I don’t pity. I congratulate and envy them. They escaped. Cynthia said she might take me out tomorrow, to CVS and to Eat n Park. If she does I’ll eat all my chicken and get dessert no matter how I feel. And I’ll get chocolate at CVS and eat it all too. I’ll finish catching up with my Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal, I’ll watch my beloved Code Geass and my darling Junjou Romantica. And try to just enjoy that. So I’ll drink my prozac when I’m completely exhausted so hopefully I’ll be able to fall asleep right after (I know it’s not like overdosing on sleeping pills) and I’ll hope for the best and a merciful ending, or at the very least an ending. If I’m not on by the end of July it means I’ve done it, if I come on before then (not counting the next few days) it means it either didn’t work, or I’m a pathetic coward and still looking for that tall building (why couldn’t we have lived in a big apartment building, then this would be so easy).
It’s been a bad June so far. Why am I not allowed to eat during summer? Last year I was barely eating because I was having trouble swallowing. I still have trouble but I’ve learned how to manage it since then. This year we have no money. My mom said on either May 31 or June 1 that we were out of food stamps, and we are completely, totally broke.* Food stamps don’t kick in to the 10th of the month, so I’d have to wait until then to, uh, eat. I haven’t been completely starving, a few days I was able to get up to my great aunt Cynthia’s and get something off her, but in general my meals have been very small. A roll with some lunchmeat on it here, half a can of tuna there. I lost 10 lbs between June 1 and June 6. I’m so hungry all the time, I wake up hungry, I go to sleep hungry, just hungry. My poor baby girls hungry too. She ran out of her treats, and because of my mom that’s all she eats. She has some regular hard food but she refuses to eat it. My mother and Cynthia keep saying that if she’s hungry she’ll eat, but I keep telling them they’re wrong. You can lead a cat to food but you can’t make them eat. Allie absolutely refuses to eat her hard food. Every time I get up she comes running and meowing, and I have to put her where the food is and point her towards it, but she just sits there or runs away. I’m worried about her. She’s skinny as it is, and cats can get sick from not eating enough. I can last a lot longer than she can. But there’s nothing I can do about it. My mom wanted to borrow money off my aunt Cyndy’s boss, but Cyndy wouldn’t let her. Apparently she doesn’t think that things like food, milk, toothpaste, and toilet paper are necessary things. I’m sure she’d feel differently if it was her.
Because of what’s going on I’ve completely given up for the moment on the Altador Cup. I don’t feel well, and I’m majorly depressed, so it’s really a low priority for me. I don’t have the energy or the motivation to do anything about it right now, or care. Same with anything else. I just don’t care. On top of everything the nail on my left pinky split across on the side a few days ago and I had to take it off. I should have left it on. Now the skin that was underneath it is exposed. It’s not a lot, it’s not halfway down or anything, but it’s still bothering me. I hope it grows in right. I have problems with my big toe because of a nail that didn’t come in right. I’m not getting any vitamins so it’s coming in very slowly. I haven’t seen any progress at all with it since it happened.
I don’t know what I’m going to eat today. I was going to go up to my aunt Cynthia’s, but last time I looked the landlord was doing something outside so I might not be able to. I’ll probably just drink the Pepsi she gave me yesterday. Two more days…
* Yes, I did say I have some money I wanted to get Code Geass doujinshi with, but it’s only available online, and can only be used certain places online.
And any people coming here from ANN I said I don’t support buying anime and manga in America. I fully support buying it directly from Japan. So STFU.