(no subject)

extremely mopey today, feeling as though everything is just shy of making me burst into tears. This is an awesome mood to go to Light's work's holiday party in.

Topic sentences:

I want someone else to advocate for me.
I want to care less what people think.

"Waves outline the sea"

*written earlier today, transcribing before bed*

Seriously, brain. I took my pills, what's the deal with all this stomach-churning jitteriness? I haven't even finished my first cup of tea, it can't be over caffeination.

Well, my brain would like to remind me that not only do I have Light's work party, not only is said party themed around Repeal Day, not only am I waiting on Funnyface's bloodwork, not only am I going to AA to volunteer and not only am I hoping to apply for two jobs tonight, but the safety committee work is freaking me the hell out and I can't afford to be conflict avoidant or care about how people talk to me at the moment.

Postcards: Part of the reason I send them out with other people's words on them is because that's the closest to the edge of vulnerability I'm willing to get. If someone's household makes me anxious I'm a lot less likely to send them even the most innocuous of postcards.

I hang out a lot with the assumption of mockery. I manage to simultaneously believe that no one thinks about me once I'm out of sight, and that everyone's laughing at me behind my back. So most things I do, I decide whether or not I want to say or do them badly enough that I'm okay with people uncharitably inclined towards me seeing it.

I've been a handful of people's dirty little secrets, and even if I don't do that anymore, I think I still feel a little damaged about it. And maybe everyone has this kind of damage, and they just know how to get over it, and I'm still worried that I'm not going to be ever worth enough to stand up for, and blargh.

I wore fishnet tights, a fancy dress and glitter eyeliner. We spent a very short time being uncomfortable at the party, and then took off to eat frozen yogurt in Davis Square. And now I'll work on a job application until I get too fuzzy, but I won't submit it until tomorrow morning, when I'm a lot less drugged.