I need Therapy

It's eleven am and warmer outside than inside. It's March and I'm fantasizing about snow up in New York- last night, I actually had some waking dream that I was looking out my window at the snow slowly falling. But it is, indeed, March, and most likely it's not that cold out and there's just dirty melting snow and slush and wetness.

A year ago I was slicing open my heart with a box cutter and still, I'm not doing too much better. Falling in love with the wrong people at the wrong time, skirting by with barely my insanity in tact and I'm wondering what I'll do with my life, still.

Now that I'm "on the road" all I want to be doing is finding a new home, getting three lame ass minimum wage jobs and living alone with my cats who aren't my cats anymore. Now everything is more unsure, but I suppose that's the beauty of it, the unsurity is at least reliable. One day I'll be happily driving away from or to something with cash in my pocket and chin held high, the next broke with a busted car and an even more busted heart, burying my head in the sand and hoping it'll all go away.

Really, all I want is companionship and over and over I don't find it, though I'm teased for a couple days or a couple weeks, if I'm lucky. I'm forced to realize that I'm still a mess and I've still got a long way to go... Am I as ugly as I see myself? I fear I am.

The above photo is from my last Home, though it was barely that, at least I had my room all set up with my pictures all over the walls, my canopy above my shitty futon mattress on the floor. Cat hair everywhere but they loved me and I them ("and they loooved me lovin them.. and that's showbiz"). I would lay in bed hungover and sad and missing someone and curl up with my babies and curled around my body pillow in the silence and watch the trees outside my window, pissing away sunny afternoons like a lazy cat forbidden to be free.

I stopped reading. Perhaps I've just been too depressed to read, lost in my own thoughts and they never come out right on paper or keyboard, they just stick up in my head, rattling around driving me crazy (crazy? I was once crazy.. they locked me in a rubber room...).

I need therapy.

Tryin to get back into the blogging groove. Makes me feel someone is listening.