It hurts to feel.

My heart is so very heavy. I feel alone in a house filled with people, a family. I am not a part of this family yet I am here. This is one of the reasons I feel so alone. I am not one of them. I sit alone in this room and stare into my computer screen wondering what my mother is doing and hoping that no one has gone through my things. I have always had dreams of being a vagabond of sorts, but this isn't the way I wanted it to be. I have no home, I have no family to call mine, and it isn't making me happy. This isn't the dream that I wanted, this isn't the way I wanted things to go, but I guess in some ways- I needed it. I took the plunge to leave my home, my mother, my life. In hopes of being taken in by people who I thought would love me. I thought wrong, like I usually do, and now I am stranded. It is weird this feeling of in between. I am not out on my own exactly, but I don't have a place to call my home either. I have been doing my best not to cry about this, I can't seem to do it. It just hurts and then I get this feeling in my stomach, and all I can say is that I am feeling sick. I have been feeling sick a lot lately. I miss my bed, my dogs and the smell of my mother so much, but I can't go back, I can't talk to her. She won't understand not even now. My mother is stubborn and will always be stubborn. It is just something I have to live with from here on out, and right now I am choosing not to live with it.


I feel sick and I just want to sleep. For days.

Like watching paint dry

So here I am, watching my nail polish dry. One of the most tedious things you can imagine. I am lying in my boyfriend's bed, which is where I rest my head these days since I really don't have a place to call home, just yet. I am in between moving out and moving in. His home is my limbo at the moment, but not limbo in the bad way. I am merely stuck, and have no place to really go. I have been getting more and more depressed which is leading to me feeling sick, and having the compulsion to throw up. There is nothing to be sick over, but it is my cycle of dealing with things. It is hard not to come to this point, but I am trying to fight back to save Mike from the horror that may ensue, it is not pretty. I really ought to write more, now that I am in a state where I can write, and hey! look at the time, semi normal. Right? Why is everything upsetting my stomach? I cannot stand this.