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I'm bothered by things.


Sean is still coma bound.
I'm still in Virginia.
I don't feel like I do enough for Chad, Though I'm pretty sure that he'll disagree with me totally.
I desperately need to clean out the junk in my life.
The physical and then mental.
I'm basing my assumption that Jason is still alive on the fact that I can't find any obituaries.
I haven't actually looked for obituaries since I had that dream because of my freaky brushes with pre-cognitive dreaming episodes in the past.
I think that that probably puts me in the "looney" category.
I make food I have no intention of eating.
I'm going through a phase of smoking way too much.
My camera still doesn't work and the guy who sold it to me swears that everything was functional the last time he took photos with it (a month ago) and it had been stationary since then up until the time he put it in a box and shipped it.
So I'm kind of fucked there.
I have to wait until I get my tax returns to get it fixed.
I have $60 that I can actually spend before I hit that $500 limit in my saving's account.
I'm in love with someone on the other side of the country, and while that's dealable and there are no fears about him, it's the move. The actual physical moving. I'm stunned by this and scared by this and I realize I'm taking a tremendous leap of faith (that's backed up by scads of evidence) and that this is looked on with a bit of dubiousness by my family.
They don't say it.
But I see it.
Mostly from my mother.
I need to figure out what of my possesions really matter.
And that's just.... hard to do.... given that I won't know what the hell I'll want with me when I'm out there on the other coast.
I'm lonely.
I need to chop my hair off.
I need to get the hell out of this country with all it's murder minded assholes.
Why is "I want to personally eviscerate the entirety of the Al Queda network" an okay statement and "I want to kill unholy American scum" not an okay statement? Eh? EH?
Pot calling the Kettle black.. over and over again. Oh, but I forgot... it's coming from the mouths of Americans so it's all okay, right?
Yeah... right..... I need out of this country.
Canada is looking better and better.
All in due time...
I want to just flash forward to a year from now so that I can avoid the move and the setting up and apartment hunting and the small 'settling in' pains that I know will happen. I want to just be in WA, with Chad, making crazy shit all day long and going out on the weekends for house shopping and impromptu arcade game sprees.
My life feels like it's been... dying.
I've got no friends left here.
The one person I *could* call a friend... heh... I couldn't even be around him because, well, he beat the shit out of me in a psychotic episode and now... now he's in a coma after having tried to kill himself... and somehow he's still the truest friend I've fucking had in this part of the world since Tom died.

They all die, ya know.
All of them.
There was a point in my life when I was convinced that I killed people. Really.
I was SURE of the fact (not a supposition, but a FACT) that I killed people who got close to me. A sort of firestarter/carrie/unavoidable curse or telekinetic by product.
No *really*...
anyway...

I wish there was a way I could ... be around Sean right now. But I can't.
At at this point... I can't even guess at how I'll feel if he dies.
It'll be sad.
Of course.
But I think it will also be like a long slow sigh. A release. For him. he's spent three years laboring around in full blown schizophrenia. When he's okay, he's got this wicked dry wit that made me like his company in the first place. WHen he's not okay, you might as well not even call him "Sean"

I don't know.. this is just too painful babbling on about.
Fuck it.
I don't think I'm making sense about that anyway.

The people who talk so blithely about killing.
They're either people who've never had it touch them in a signifigant way.
Or people who've had it touch them too much and it's just killed their ability to feel anyone's pain but their own.

it's still sickening.

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maddening
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