i awoke this morning with sad eyes, blinking the tears out between my lashes, blurring my clock into focus.

three o'olock. three pm. three o'clock. three o'clock. three o'colock.

another day. i am terrified to live another day. i curled around myself, balled like a fetus, desperately trying to clutch all of myself to me and disappear...

not an easy feat, i assure you...

and i cried.

late for everything today, no surprise... when you go out into the world and cannot hide your sadness, there is a discomfort...

no one wants to look at you, they catch your eyes, those sad, fucking eyes, and the back away...

they ask you how you are, and you fail to lie and they cant handle it. they ask you how you are, but they dont care. they dont want the truth. they want a "good", a "fine"... they want one happy made up word to reassure them the world is in order, and then they can go on their way...

so many tears today...

even now....

i cannot read my goddamned screen.

i called my dad today... i miss his voice... kissing skinned knees and piggy back rides... i miss being small and everyone else was big and it was okay because they took care of you....

of me.

everyone was bigger than me and it was okay because i was taken care of...

and my voice caught in my throat and i was afraid...

i need help. help like a little girl, like im a fucking infant and i cannot walk...

i need help.

every picture i see of me reminds me that my eyes are filled with tears...

and i am weak.

the night dragged on forever... forever... forever... forever...

teragram. teragram. teragram.

opening line and backwards name from a story i read when i was in fifth grade. the things we carry with us,..





"you know... im a big fan."

i paused, hovering over him, my bare breasts inches from his face.

"oh?"

"yeah. i saw you in S.A. the other day... but i was afraid to say anything."

"really? well... jeez, why? never be afraid to talk to me. in real life, im pretty friendly. i promise."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

and so i gently pushed my breasts into his face.





sitting alone in a diner. god this is depressing. same meal ive entertained every night the past week, splayed across the table in front of me: blueberry pancakes with whipped cream, bacon (crispy, of course), small glass of orange juice, large glass of water. my car keys, purse, a kids menu and some illicit crayons lay off to the side.

sitting alone in a diner. three booths in sight, all of them empty. all the tables empty, too. muffled chatter and laughter behind me, off to my left. i entertain fantasies of someone coming to talk to me, someone acknowledging me, saying hello, nodding grunting anything. just me and my waitress.

sitting alone in a diner. shitty family kid elderly friendly music sputtering from speakers overhead... my eardrums are disintigrating in my head. shut it off, shut if off, shut it off! theyre pounding... my head is pounding. i need an aspirin.





packing up, time to go. keys, crayons, kids menu, phone, all swept into my purse. my purse is getting heavier and heavier. i also took a spoon that was not mine. im almost sorry.





sit in my vehicle, idling. the seat warms my back, my butt, my thighs. i almost melt... i want to cry. stare at my hands for a little while... shakey little hands, tiny fingers intertwined. ive shriveled to a size two. something im not sorry about... i always envied those women, those impossible women... shopping with my friends (friends... ha! what a notion! me with friends), curling our lips in derision. size zero? size one? who are these figments who wear these impossible nether sizes? no one is that small.

godammit, im close. so close to that small...





"youre losing weight."

almost every day i hear this, from someone different, someone new.

"oh? i dont think so."

"youve lost weight. youre getting really skinny. have you lost weight?"

"i dont know. i dont own a scale. evil machines."





is my soul shrinking with me?





how tragic is the empty bed, the lonely bed... cold, cold bed. my dreams are worse and my sleep a mess without you here to keep me safe.

please keep me safe.

happy birthday, Carin.

in the chaos surrounding my whirlwind tax filing/ paying/ sobbing/ panicking/ relief, i did not call you today... i thought i would swing by your house later in the evening, take you out, "schmooze" you, as it were...

and then time slipped by...

and then it got so late, i was afraid to knock on your door.

i dont know if you read this...

but godammit, happy birthday. you are my longest love... and i miss you...

we have to celebrate.

i will get ahold of you.

sooooooo... hold your breath. and get ready.

love you, ladypants.

stayed up all night watching shitty, shitty movies so i wouldnt have to dream.

daniel baldwin played some fat addled drunk/dumb sidekick... i recognized him from celebrity weight loss challenge where he played some fat addled drunk/dumb/pill popping fat guy.

why does that show exist?

i worry in the coming weeks that the bed i sprawl on will forget me, my shape coming undone and ill forget how to sleep here...

i worry so that i cry, afraid of being surrounded by people who i dont know, who dont understand or care... missing my pet to keep me safe...

coming unraveled.

im scared of the sweats, and the aching and the lonliness...

terrified of the dark, anymore.

he threw me a wink and asked how work went; i said slow, not a lie, but claimed i got lucky.

a dirty sneer crept across his face, accompanied with a low, dark laugh.

"...hope i can get lucky someday, babydoll."

in your fucking dreams.

you can keep your black heart.

there are moments of shame... moments of guilt and of sorrow welling in my throat when i look at all my failings...

one after another after another...

its almost beautiful in that i see them coming, gaping holes at my feet, but i fall in anyways, aware...

that this thing im doing is the wrong thing.

its hard to fix failure; repetitive failure, breaking you down and chipping away at you and stealng the best pieces of yourself to claim as its own...

pieces that dont ever come back.

a full moon brought out the bad ones, and i could see it in me, too.

bit me so hard i cried; violated me a way that no one deserves; scathingly wrong, apologetic perversion... fuck you, get out get out get out...

there is too much room in my head for thinking. trying so hard to push it out... but it just doesnt want to go...

peace comes with a price; freedoms lost and individuality gone, but finally a way...

to lock myself in...

an excuse to disappear...

something to work at, to strive for....

my dreams have been so bad they wake me in the night.... over and over again, bolt upright in bed, my heart in my throat and my breath coming in shallow gasps...

but i cant.. remember... what was wrong...

these images have gotten so much worse.

i need a blade to cut you out.

im tired.

so, im inserting this old picture (that has been in my pics folder for a long while, as well) in my journal this evening NOT because im unoriginal and have nothing to say, but rather because....

uh....

that is to say....

crap.



life is making a new man out of me. im not sure how to elaborate on that, exactly; suffice it to say, im adjusting quite well.

to elaborate on THAT, i love it.

i love it like a fat kid love cake.

i worked an amateur night on thursday; it had been awhile since id worked, and i decided i could use the cash. it was the screwiest competition in town, though, i swear. this coming from someone who does not know how the other clubs host their amateur nights, but....

you show up at nine. they send you out on the floor to "mingle" and try to get dances around ten. they send you onstage, one after another to compete around eleven. this is a winner takes all competition; if you dont win, you get ZIP.

keeping THAT in mind,, once the competion is over (the winner is chosen based on audience approval, i.e. cheers and clapping and such), ALL CONTESTANTS have to stay and work the rest of the shift.

AND THEN! are you ready for this? okay. deep breath.

ALL THE CONTESTANTS IN THE AMATEUR CONTEST, WHETHER THEY WON OR LOST, MUST.... PAY.... A SHIFT FEE.

you hear that, people?! if you lost the contest and WON NOTHING, YOU HAVE TO PAY TO BE THERE ANYWAYS.

now thats fucked up.

good thing i crushed them.




....good to see you, TinyE.

detroit. detroit was very, very good to me.

before i got out there, the wonderful fuck made some calls on my behalf, and found me a place to stay. and not just ANY place to stay, mind you-- i was hooked up with a bed within the abode of the lovely, sweet, and amazing Kira.

i left thursday night around seven... and arrived, ragged and chain smoking, around ten the following morning. my convention tattoo appointment: two in the afternoon.

so we finished Mr. Right Sleeve, and then steve, my artist, that sweet bastard, loaned me his hotel bed so i could get some sleep. i ended up passing out for like, four or five hours. i woke up to a series of texts... quite a few people wondering where id disappeared to. we met up in the hotel bar... Kira, fuck, BROKENsk8board, and i... BROKENsk8board snapped this gem with his camera phone. i look distressed as hell:



i met so many people at the convention... people i feel entirely priveleged to have met. James, who is so gorgeous in person (and TINY!) i cant stand it; NicoleLee, also fucking tiny, with a mouth like a sailor, but this sexy look that creeps across her face on a pretty regular basis; Vanden, with whom i ended up sharing an elevator (she made my bottom tingle) before i even realized who she was; veganpunk and his beautiful lady, the archived Lilith; BROKENsk8board, whos not only a funny motherfucker, but who single handedly chugged an entire jar of pickle juice; curmudgeon, who kept buying me drinks, even though i was trying to buy drinks for HIM; Warchild, for whom i cannot express how well we got along; ymonster, who had me sign his yearbook, and to whom i promised to save some skin; fuck, who started out quiet, but opened up as the weekend went on and is a fucking cool cat-- his lady is a lucky lady!; and a slew of others whose names i remember, but cant... place... member names! head... ASPLODE! everyone was amazing-- ive never gone anywhere that treated me better than home. i wanted to cram them all into a jar and take them home in my purse....



my first day at the con, with james, and nicolelee. fuck, those ladies are gorgeous.

i guess that means detroit is now going to be my home away from home.

on saturday night, after the con, a shit-huge group of us decided to go to a bar called Wild Cherries to see Kira, whod been stuck working all day. veganpunk and i ended up at his apartment with a vegan pizza (yum!) to wait until lilith was finished working so we could scoop her up and take her to the bar...

we walked into his apartment, and learned (the smell hit us immediately) that enzo, of the rottweiler breed, had SHIT.... EVERYWHERE.

i felt so bad for my new friend, down on the floor, picking up shit. yikes.

anyways. we got to the bar several hours after everyone else, so what does benni do? i am not a drinker, but i didnt want to be the lone person hanging out going, meekly, "oh... just juice for me, thanks." i decided to play catch up.

some eight (nine? ten?) shots inside of an hour. dude. loaded.



above, crammed into the restroom at kiras work, vanden, me, lilith, nicolelee, and kira.



oop, theres us again. can you tell im getting a little... uh... fun?



and then there was this... nicolelee, i cannot express to you the depth of my affection for... you. and i will never stop bragging about this.

and then, wasted as all get out, we all went back to kiras....



by the time we got back to the lovely ladys house, BROKENsk8boards tummy looked like this-- i guess this is what it means to be owned. by hot ladies. with a sharpie.

and then...



i was a lucky, lucky girl that night.



and did i mention... loaded?

but it was worth every second of it. i miss you guys. but i will return to you! detroit. my new home away from home.

ah, to update. the initial blank page is always something i wrestle with. lets break the ice with a photo, shall we?



okay. did that make it easier? no? damn. i gave it a shot, anyways.

preparing for a long drive tomorrow... my second annual trip to detroit for the motor city tattoo expo. when this convention rolled around last year, i was still floating around in the purgatory that is limbo... but this year... no, my friends. this year, as an sg, i have connections.

i have... friends.

the lovely SG Kira is housing me. ive never actually met her, but i must say, if her phone personality is anything like she is in "real life", she and i are going to get along just fine. she sounds absolutely adorable, and is sweet as pie. i mean, she's gotta be. who else houses a total stranger? albeit one who spends a phenomenal amount of time nekkid on the internet, but still...


i think this is one of my favorite pictures of tegan, ever. come back to me, my pretty missus. i need a hug.

yesterday (i think it was yesterday, my concept of time has never been... well, accurate is giving it more credit than is due) i talked to the stunning NicoleLee. i get to meet her this weekend, as well. how the fuck did i get so lucky as to be surrounded by so many beautiful ladies? goddamn. i cant wait. my impatience is going to make the drive extra long.

a special thanks to fuck for helping me with accomodations and hooking me up with BOTH of the aforementioned women (who im going to oggle, profusely, all weekend).



godammit, tegan, i said COME BACK!



if you had no toilet paper, you would look this sad too.





for being as sad as ive been for a long, long time... im actually feeling good. im feeling happy. the more people act like assholes, the easier it is for me to shut them off...

and shuttting people off gives me the opportunity to focus on the good things in my life...

and to realize that ive done a fucking good job of getting my life back on track...

and hell. im going to detroit, to oggle beautiful tattooed men and women. im a lucky fucking girl this weekend.

imonna buy my friends a round.

and dammit, tegan, COME BACK TO ME!

when you need the pretty words... that is when they fail you.

there are not words to describe...

theres a feeling... an amazing feeling of being so small and so insignificant that awe takes you in such a way... that your breath catches in your throat and your eyes start to well and youre not sure why....

and its beautiful.

maybe it was the oxygen failing me as i climbed higher and higher into the mountains, but if ive ever been close to god it was then.

i stood on an outcropping of rock, suspended like a piece of soul over a valley and a view that stretched hundreds of miles... there were trees and rivers and desert and more mountains, all stretched and rolling, unfurled before me and bathed in sun...

i wanted to put down roots, never leave.

there are ghostowns all along those roads, mysteries and geological anomolies and wild animals that stare at you, puzzled, unsure of what you are...

buffalo are bigger in person. and kind of jerks.

i set out to clear my head, aching and sick and sure of only one thing...

that this place would be a new beginning for me.

its amazing how a place so close can be so foreign to what i know here...

i looked at the world with eyes as though id never seen before, as though id been blind until that moment and i blinked and in came the sun...

but its when you need the pretty words... thats when they fail you.

nothing i say will do it justice... but its locked in here.

if i could have only one wish, i would wish that i never forget.