I still don't feel guilty. Sometimes I wonder why, because mostly people do feel that way. I suppose it's because for the longest time I felt guilty because I was incessantly teased, that I did something to make that happen. That my anger and my hate were unnecessary and uncalled for, and that I shouldn't feel like slitting people's throats open or wanting to know how to make a bomb so that I could blow something up. I had wanted to commit suicide, once, but then why? Why remove ME from it, when it's really other people who need to go?

The only thing I really feel guilty for right now is texting while drunk. I feel really sorry for doing that, almost to the point that I should apologize. I probably won't, and it probably went ignored as it should be. I'm smart but I do some really incredibly stupid things sometimes. I should not have done that, and plan to employ the "off" button in the future. I fuck things up all the time, so it's pretty much a standard with me, and I'm used to it, I guess. Next time, I won't let Fantastic Hair talk me into playing bar dice. Funny how I'm lucky at games when I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. I also have to find a drinking buddy, because sitting at the bar alone thinking is really bad. That's where the trouble comes in. Too much beer and Tequila can make a fun evening go downhill quickly.

Even then, I have here. You and me, Blog. You've been here for me when speech failed me. Where I can write my whiny anger-laden screeds and leave actual people out of it. I really do think no one wants to hear stuff, not even in the form of drunken texting. It's so ingrained in me, to not speak unless I know someone well, that's it's really hard to break out of it. No one, not my parents, not the teachers, not the school councilors, no one was interested enough in my welfare to stop what was going on. I never mattered. So mostly that's what I think. I just don't matter. I think, though, that not mattering makes me say and do stupid shit. If no one cares, then what does that matter? There's no reason for caring about anything then.

But then I do want someone to care. And I mean to really, really care and be able to take the time and attention to listen and hold me. I suppose that's why I constantly whine. I'm alone here, just talking to the night. But I will always be alone, and I know this. And it will always be like this. I say what I mean, because you can't read minds, except I can. But how are you to know what I'm thinking or feeling if I don't tell you? And why should I tell you when you can't be bothered to listen to me? It's an endless cycle, and I know that there's more men out there than Asshat and ExFiancee and B, but I don't think that I will find someone who wants to listen to me, even the bad stuff, so I'm really not going to bother to try. But this is also exceedingly common even among friends and family. Prop up the next the person because your feelings and emotions have long since been tossed aside, because people think that they know you and they have you figured out.

The other problem is what I'm thinking. I hate that question. If it's amusing enough, I'll tell someone, but most of the time I just make shit up. Because it's kind of disturbing to answer that question with "well, someone annoyed me so much today that I'm getting satisfaction in thinking of tearing a chunk of flesh out of their thigh and forcing it down their throat until they gag and choke on it". Who wants to hear that? Or "you're making me imagine that I'm driving nails into my eyeballs". Or "I feel so ashamed right now, I wish I could just rip off my skin". It was enough to say "I'm so fucking bored, I want to shoot myself." (At least The Artist appreciated that one. That led to one of the most hilarious conversations I've had that revolved around shooting things.) Would I ever do any of these things? No. But it's really fun and stress relieving to think of them. But I'm aware that these are things that you just don't share with other people, as for most of the time I think these things, it's the emotions behind them that I'm really evoking. I'm really not a violent person. I've never been in a fistfight or stabbed anyone. The worst I did to Asshat was when I pulled his hair in response to him kicking me, or when ExFinacee followed me to my room and I repeatedly shut the door on his hand and told him to leave me alone.

I think most people would be shocked at the shit I think. So quiet and disarming, cute and charming, pure evil with a little bow. And I'm sure people would think I need help or something. Violent imagery is just that - imagery. It's not reality. I mean, I really have thought about being an axe murderer, but honestly, I was just bored and wanted to occupy my mind. If you actually sit down and think about being an axe murderer, it would actually be kind of tough. For starters, you'd need to have enough upper body strength to hack at someone. And once you start hacking away, are we talking about fatal wounds, or taking off limbs? There's a lot of factors to consider, like how you clean up all of the blood or finding a place that's secluded enough.

I find this amusing. Between you and me, Blog, I don't know what's crazier - Occasionally thinking, "You're so stupid I want to stab you" and I'm not at all embarrassed by it, or drunkenly texting, "Will there be another time?" and being complete embarrassed that I drunk texted someone. But now that I think of it, it's not so crazy. One of those scenarios involves an actual person. The other, just my imagination.

Which brings me to Barfly. I don't think I'll be the Barfly again. When I thought about it, the one feature of the character that is depressing is that she has no opinion of her own and can listen intently and fawningly to people, mostly men. In its essence, it is an "innocent" character, as she never has life experience to contribute to a conversation. It is a vapid character, and what's even sadder than that, that's what gets me laid. No one cares about a sob story. No one cares about the person inside. If we lived in a world where a woman holding very strong opinions and fantastically murderous thoughts was gold, I'd fucking have a harem, and life would be fucking awesome, and I wouldn't have to worry where the next lay was going to come from, like I'm some crazed, desperate junkie. Oh, wait. When it comes to sex, I am. Fancy that.

I suppose the fact that I'm super creepy doesn't help. But that is truly me, something I can't help at times. Who else can post that she is looking for a mate who's okay with dating a benevolent dictator on a dating website? I must admit, I find it hilarious that OKCupid still keeps it up. I can't believe that they even approved it. One day I will have the best picture to put on there...and since I ordered the flame boots, I have an outfit or two in mind. Not sure how I'll do the makeup. Atrocious or dignified? I do not know.

The brain. It is complex. Humans are very interesting.