I need some kind of bunny-based protector that I can keep with me at all times for at least the next year or so.

“Why is that, Monica?”
 You may or may not find yourself asking.

Well, the short of it is this:

When I was younger, I dated this guy who is pretty jacked up. He is my age. We are now in the same college. I wasn’t terrified of him when I transferred schools, now I am.

But, he’s more scared of rabbits than I am of him (I’m not THAT scared, I’d still take his ass on in a fight if given half a chance).

It’s kind of silly, but I just really need it…

Today, I’m visiting one of the safe houses for the underground railroad in Brooklyn. Then, I’m going to this chemist-y type place where there’s a woman who mixes perfumes for people. Apparently, she was going to write my blend down so I’m going back to pick up a small bottle.

Then CAMBODIAN BALLET AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW PSYCHED I FUCKING AM.

Cambodian.

Ballet.

My evening is going to be fucking majestic.

And maybe I’ll go to this party thing after, idfk.

Who cares? I’ll have just seen the Cambodian Ballet, goddammit.

Since deciding that I would be myself, I’ve discovered how few people I can actually stand…

It’s been about a year since I kind of just stopped and said, “What nonsense is this that I’m trying to pull? Who is this person that I’m looking at? She is not an expression of the person inside of me.” And since then, I’ve stopped talking to all but a small handful of my friends, I’ve stopped lying to people who piss me off, and I’ve stopped forgiving everyone constantly for treating me like a doormat. It really brought things into perspective for me. It’s funny how many people thought I was obligated to be their doormat.

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I’m having a hard time figuring out if I should move into the dorms

I feel guilty using money that isn’t really mine, I guess, even though plenty of kids do it all the time, and I really will still be using others money at home too.

It doesn’t seem right or something. I don’t know.

Change is scary?

I just don’t know if I want to live in the place that they described in my welcome email. Like, I think my roommate will hate me. I think everyone will hate me.

I think I’ll have to be too sober for what I’m going to have to do. And I don’t think I’m ready for that.

I’ll have a private discussion with my mother when she gets home I guess.

After I eat dinner.

Finally figured out why I’ve been sleeping so much.

It’s a vicious, fucked up cycle.

I go to sleep,

I have a nightmare,

I wake up feeling crazy sick and exhausted,

I feel like my organs are tangled,

I lie back down,

I go to sleep.

I miss being able to escape in my dreams, I’m so upset that I’m stuck in this artificial world teeming with my real world problems.

I could handle this if I were dreaming about monsters or insane disasters, but I’m dreaming about the person who hurt me the most. He makes me nauseous to think about. And in my dreams, he’s always there. I miss the dreams I used to have, even the predecessor to these where the biggest difference is the guy I’m with.

I hate feeling like this and putting any energy into it. Because I know that he would never do that for me, even negatively. I’m just some worthless girl to him. That’s how he was able to treat me the way he did.

I feel worthless around him even in my dreams. Even the idea of seeing him makes me feel worthless and afraid and too small to do anything.

I don’t miss him, but now more than ever I wish that I had someone who could just be there for me. I feel like if I had someone holding me when I fall asleep, it would go away and I wouldn’t be so scared anymore. But I can’t do that because my experience with him made me too scared for relationships.

And they say you should never regret a relationship.

Just heard from my High School mentor

I had been worried that I was never going to hear from her again. From the time I was fourteen to the time I was seventeen, I saw her basically once a week every week. She was there for me when I had mama drama and boyfriend drama. She met the people I considered myself closest with and gave me honest advice whenever she thought I needed it.

So, basically, she was like a mother to me. A lot of people find it strange that I made this bond with this business woman because I’m some lower/middle income New York child, but she was always really great to me, even when I wasn’t necessarily a great person.

She’s moving out of the city, which is kind of a bummer for sure, but we both have such different schedules that we didn’t get to see each other much anyway. And besides, she’s invited me to visit her in Utah, which may sound dull compared NYC but when you’ve lived here for 19 years and haven’t left in 6 of them, you tend to not care for the city anymore.

Maybe this time, next year, I’ll be sitting in a big house in the suburbs just enjoying the quiet and that weird wooshing sound cars make when they pass houses.

So…if I want to use Spotify, I need a facebook account?

Okay, I’ll have neither then.

Fuck you Spotify, that is ridiculous and just comes across as bizarre and unwelcoming.

There you go, a quadruple “fuck you” for the people who decided to try and force people to make a facebook by denying access to their websites. Fact of it is, I wanted to see if Spotify was as shitty as I thought it was; turns out it’s even shittier than that.

No, I will not make a new fucking facebook because otherwise I can’t listen to some music. I’ve lived without their service for twenty years, and it looks like I’ll just be doing some more of the same.

I’m not really sure why it inspired such anger, I think I just really hate everything about facebook and spotify that much.