MIA

My mom was murdered.
no fucking kidding.
ON EASTER.
Strangled by her husband.
Innocent until proven guilty and all that rot.

And suddenly I feel crass and sick for typing this and sending it out into the universe, but I dont fucking care. My mother is gone.

I was talking with a co-worker when her ashes were delivered. I was happy.
I have moved from Long Beach to Hollywood, gone home for the memorial, had a trip to vegas, been on MTV, and organized future trips to Portland, Oregon, Austin Texas and Oakland CA.
I have been motivated by a deep, compelling need to move at the speed of sound.

The delivery was set down on the desk without a sound and yet it was the most intense weight on my chest. Like a fucking asteroid landed square on my heart.

This has been my life. Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun. FUCKING RUN. And then I hit a glass wall i never saw in the way.

I meet people or run into old friends by chance.

"Hi..." at what point do i say something because this is so obviously a "heart on my sleeve" situation. I run myself into these walls every few hours. I wanna scream and cry and be totally inappropriate, and sometimes i let myself do just that. In teeny, tiny amounts. But mostly I apologize for what I'm about to say. And then I meditate as I speak and pretend I'm doing a scene from my favorite drama. This isn't happening to me, this is something that never happened that I saw at the movies.

I'm beginning to scare people, and annoy them.
And I have yet enjoy a day where I dont terrify or sicken myself.

Last post seems ages ago, from a different person.
I keep wondering what it was like to feel that because all I can remember is feeling like I'm about to explode and fade away all at the same time.

It feels like I've always felt that.

This is not what life should be.

FUCK.