Today’s title is brought to you by Puddle of Mudd.

I’m wide awake at five thirty am. I’m thinking about boredom and insanity and my personality. Religion is somewhere in there. I could scream or read, play random games, pray, light a candle or take a knife and my wooden sword and brain a random neighbor before slitting a wrist or two. I’d probably go for something less attention grabbing, or burn an abandoned building to the ground. Or cry. But I’ll actually do all the normal responses to boredom instead of embracing my absurd craziness that would be connected to absolutely nothing but mere insanity. I don’t even hear voices. Well, I don’t think I do. Bet you’re glad I probably don’t live anywhere near you eh random people?

Really I came on my blog to make a logical entry bred by thought and consideration over a post I read on an e-quaintence’s blog (twould be Aubs Tea) but instead I started with craziness. I swear I have a point. I have a post stuck in Draft form from after a cleansing and much needed revelation to the BGF who is always far more reachable than my other best friends to handle my raving. It was a realization and admittance to holding anger and rage from high school. Rage at my mother and stepfather, anger at the universe for making my father move to Florida, anger and a still very raw hurt over my ex’s behavior during and after our relationship ended. How it ended, the end of high school, and my first year of college still make me very angry and upset. Of course i had good times and memories from 2008-2010, which are the years a lot of the stuff I’m angry about happened. My BF and I started dating, I made most of my best friends. Those events and my fun times are bright shining stars in a black and gray sky, made brighter by all that darkness and rage I didn’t know I had. Well, I knew I had the darkness.

I’ve had depression since 11th grade, came close to committing suicide in 12th and my first semester of college. The dense gray fog rolled in at second semester (and second school) and I more or less purposely destroyed my grades. My mother had forced me back when I didn’t want to and wasn’t ready at a school I hated. It was out of concern (and paranoia) that I would never go back if I took a semester off to recover from my darkness when I left the first school before fall semester ended, I’ll give her that. I passed one class, psychology, between my love for the subject and my weirdo professor and crazy acquaintence (the only person in class to try and talk to me), I found it bearable to push the dark aside and sit in the mist looking at the fuzzy light from the lighthouse. My BF and best friends sat in the fog with me, pointing at the light and scaring away seagulls.

I lied about my grades the entire time and partially moved in to my grandmother’s house, but I returned to my mom’s when I got irritated with it. I practice subject avoidance nowadays instead of lying because it’s really very annoying and bothersome to lie and keep up a charade. I guess I really just don’t see the purpose anymore. Sure I still lie occasionally, but more often than not I tell the truth sooner or later. Regardless, I was moved back home during the summer. This whole time I’ve been with TB and trying to become a baptised Christian and we’re basically being harassed by my church over our rather chaste relationship. My mother is simultaneously defending and harassing us as well. Let’s just say that between our own intense insecurities from our past relationships and outside badgering we had a very hard first year that survived by sheer stubbornness and dedication on our part and a hell of fucking lot of encouragement and support from our friends. Unfortunately I feel as though the stress and arguing (amongst ourselves and between us and the outside attempts at our relationship’s destruction) set in place knee-jerk reactions, hostility and defensiveness that are tripping us even nearly two years later that will still take time to unravel. We’re still learning more appropriate reactions and how to talk more calmly and respectfully and thoughtfully. I’m a big mouth and a crybaby (and honestly a spoiled brat) so you can imagine I’ve got a lot to work on. Most of the time I’m aware that I’m more than a handful and greatly appreciate my friends and TB for their love, patience, and affection.

After this was my third school. I managed to stay in for two/three quarters (I honestly cannot remember, that fog that rolls in whenever it’s dark or gray tends to occlude memory) though I repeated two classes twice. And I actually liked one. I like to blame the first quarter on being at my mother’s because the bus near the house was and still is very unreliable and truthfully it was hard to get to class, but it was also spite, laziness, depression, and a general anger that I was baited again into going to school and forced to take a drawing class despite a photography major. I felt way too much spiteful glee over not being alone in the suffering since even the audio production and videography students had to take the class too. Got my first real job too. CVS/pharmacy. The devil drives people to work there, it’s need and desperation and lack of experience that sends people to seek employment in that festering cesspool of false care that secretly torments store manager and rookie cashier alike. Many of the employees are caring and wonderful people but they work under taskmasters. Managers are either stressed and frazzled or insensitive and distant and often they are some destructive mixture. Some people find happiness, but many are overworked, underpaid and on a one way street. At least that’s how it is where I live.

I finally quit school, moved in fully with my grandmother and sought work. I was in the dark again, but it turned to gray. It’s been some bright days and dark ones and of course the gray. I’m writing this from the perspective of a new brain weather that I’ve either never noticed or that is truly new: the shiny day of rain. You know this type, it’s weirdly bright on one side of the sky but it’s pouring on the other. You’re in the rainy side, facing the sunlight and wondering what the friggin fuck is with that. My mother told me a saying that she got from her parents, weather like that means the devil’s beating his wife. I use this analogy because the way my brain is working is strange and potentially dangerous (see the start of this post) just like sunny rain. I’ve seen pictures of sunny rain where the rainclouds were birthing a tornado. And of  course there are rainbows. Depending on where you live you could see both or flooding.

It’s an interesting and exciting phenomenon, at least to me, but it heralds a particular uncertainty and dangerous energy. Or perhaps a regular storm would suffice? Static in the air, sky heavy with water, the chilled and swirling winds, animals waiting in silence. The whole world seems to hold its breath when a storm cloud comes near doesn’t it? Wondering if it’s all talk or all bite or somewhere in between? Wondering if it will pass altogether, not sure if they want to see what the storm’s got or not, the whole world waits, perversely excited and tense, anxious and fearful of the outcome, the release, the unleashing of the pent up power and the filling of that void the world becomes when a storm strolls in. One has to wonder if the storm controls itself, if it knows what it’s doing or if it’s afraid of its own power, of its release of the captured world waiting in a terrified daze at the storm’s potential strength. Does the storm fear its own death? Its potential demise and evaporation after it drops its power on the world? I wonder i wonder.

The fog is here with me, swirling around in my brain like day or night doesn’t matter. If you think about it fog is really a cloud, so it’s no wonder it sometimes precedes or follows a storm or sticks around despite the sun. I don’t even know where I’m going with this anymore. I had my point and probably didn’t even come close to making it. I probably didn’t have a real point at all, just needed to ramble about myself and showcase my craziness. Win for me? Sure, I’ll take it. I’ve had worse and better prizes than my own satisfaction at more or less purposely trying to make nonsense and real sense work together to create pseudosense that I contradictorally write with the purpose of being ignored and noticed at the same time. Ya know how sometimes serial killers ask to be stopped in a murder? Just a little teeny bit like that. It’s like this twisted desire to showcase my sickness for the purpose of getting attention but not necessarily to be cured even though I know in this brain somewhere that I can just ask for attention instead of frustrating the people who see that I really do want help but sabotage myself and run (figuratively) into brick walls. Am I making any sense? Or are you in the dark?

And here’s where I post it on facebook for attention, shits and giggles while everyone is wondering “wtf is with Rachael?” Of course most who will see this already know there’s something wrong with my brain it’s just a new side (or mostly new) of the weirdo twisted HOLYSHITWTFBBQ? Sunny rain side of my brain. This is the side that thinks up twisted stories and shit with my writer friends. It’s normally only tapped for a few drops, or glasses, of craziness every now and then. Usually it’s asleep and in hiding. Wonder what it’s doing grabbing the storm cloud’s controls.


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