Big change

Today I cut off all my hair because fuck it, I wanted to. I love it. I feel like a fucking rock star or something. I feel very confident. I feel like this is the first step to the rest of my life. I feel like I am overreacting because it's just stupid hair.

Before.

After.

(I didn't take the 'before' picture today, shhh.) Anyways, it's short. I keep running my fingers through it. I thought it would feel so weird, but it doesn't. Then the realization sets in and the questions like, how's this going to grow out and what will people think, but then you're like fuck it because you're so past caring.

I honestly like it. I feel like a new me. I feel older. I feel good.

Hypocrites and memory

Hippocrates make me so angry it's not even funny. I think the reason why I can't stand them is because I catch them every time. I have a weird memory, but it's usually a good one. I can almost always see something or hear, and it will drive me back to a past memory about the same thing.

Like, if someone said to me today, "I hate parrots," sometimes I would instantly remember when they talked about parrots before. I don't know how to explain things, but anyways, by observance and listening skills often get people in trouble. This is also why I hold grudges like nobody's business. It's because I can't forget.

And if someone thinks to themselves, "Wow, Stephanie is totally being a hypocrite right now," I probably know, but have changed my mind. Like, I know I had the conversation with you and what I said, and so I recall the instant you're recalling. Is this making any sense?

I just hate it when people post something or say something that is directly against something else they've done, even if they don't realize it because I recall all the little things. This has been brought on by me seeing someone posting something with the word 'fag' in it, then seeing another post about ending homophobia. Like, you just failed so hard and I am so angry.

I also notice when someone re-posts something. Right away I will be like, "You have already reblogged that, sir," I guess this only makes sense if you're on Tumblr. I think duplicates might be my thing. But it's more than that. I take in everything, and I remember most. It's the little things. I won't remember what I had for breakfast, but I will remember that you wore that outfit last time I saw you. I won't remember your birthday, but I'll remember you saying that you don't like bananas that one time randomly.

I love being able to recall the most random memories. I love being able to confuse someone because I remember something about them that they only mentioned in passing. I love just being observant and looking at everything and it's just my thing. But it also sucks sometimes because you remember too much and then you can't forget and move on.

So yes, if you tell me something, I will probably remember. If you do something to me, I'll never forget. I'll also think of it whenever we talk, and it just kills me a little, but I move on, or I try to anyways.

And now you know why I can't sleep. Dumb brain and its thinking.

Onward!

I want to take a bottle and harness the feeling that I'm feeling so whenever I'm sad I can have a sip and everything will be better. These constant highs and lows will be the death of me. Why can't I always just remember this feeling. This feeling of complete bliss!

You don't realize how much you miss someone, or will miss someone, until you can't just talk to them always. Things just feel right again. Not in like a weird way, but it's nice knowing you have someone to talk to. I don't even know.

I think I need to start eating healthy. I don't know how, but I probably should.

And sleeping. I should probably have normal sleeping patterns.

And everything. Everything just needs to be normal.

I just feel so fucking good right now. I'm going to go watch more of this show that I am falling in love with.

Stephanie. Stephanie. Onward. Onward feeling like this forever.

I feel

I feel like people are sick of me.
I feel like I annoy everyone.
I feel as though I don't relate to anyone.
I feel as though no one understands.
I feel like no one wants to understand.
I feel like an idiot.
I feel like a loser.
I feel like someone barely getting by.
I feel like I'm lost.
I feel like a failure.

I feel like no one cares, but honestly, why should they care if I don't? I don't know how to deal with anything. This is my fault. I push everyone away. Why should I be surprised? They can't read my mind. They can't know.

I feel like I don't deserve what I have.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring. Today was okay, but then the night comes.
I wonder if I'd still have friends if they knew everything about me. If they knew everything I do. I guess I'll never know.

Pie

I've been rethinking my life, like usual, and I've been thinking about what truly makes me happy. I've been making pro/con lists in my head about everything and everything has so many cons except for on thing. Pie. I have a deep love for pie. I'm not even kidding. By belly is full of pie right now and I am content for once.

I don't want to make pie; I want to taste pie. I want to fill my mouth with all different kinds of pies from all around the world. I want to look at a pie and say, "Get inside of me." And the pie will because I said so. I want gorgeous people to put pieces of pie in my mouth and not get angry if I can't finish it or don't like it or ask for some water, because it's just pie.

The reviews I would write would all be positive, maybe a little sexual, and have underlining wit, because tasting pie is one thing, but writing about it is another. It wouldn't be to rate it, it would simply to describe its many qualities. Hundreds, thousands, millions around the world would welcome me to put their pie in my mouth. My blog would be pilled with pictures of pies, pictures of me eating pie, and discussions about pie.

Maybe love will find me and begin to outshine my love for pie so we would settle down in the country next to an elderly couple who own a cherry orchard and the man bakes cherry pies while the wife picks the not-so-perfect cherries because they don't believe in gender roles. They gift me a pie on the odd occasion and I eat it and enjoy every bite, but my pie days are over and my blog is virtually dusty.  


Our Christmas cards have me and my significant other wearing beautifully vintage sweaters with a pie shaped baby in my arms. Every year the joke does not get old. I send it to a lot of people, but with no return address so they know I'm happy, even though I have not seen them for many moons. 


And everything would finally be wonderful.


Everything is pie and nothing hurts.

New things with added ramble

So, I've been doing new things that I don't usually do this summer. This is not a breakthrough, because some of the things are not good at all. I don't know what it is, but I guess it's good to get out of your comfort zone. It's the only way you learn anything. If you're stuck in the pattern then you go crazy. If you branch out from the pattern, you could end up even more fucked, but at least you learned something.

I should write a book. I really should. Hmm... It would be called 'The Normal Life of a Non-American, Non-Call Girl, Sexually Frustrated, Delivery Person"

No it wouldn't.

Everything has just been weird lately and I hate thinking that there is so much summer left and what else is going to happen and where else is it going to take me because I honestly don't think I want to go.

Everything still makes me feel awful.

People make me feel awful.

And I keep telling myself to breath and move on because there are people out there dealing with way worse shit than you, but no matter how small you are, if something is affecting you personally, than I guess it's the most important thing because in the end, all you got is you.

In the end, all you have is yourself to worry about.

Hey,

Hey Stephanie, it's Stephanie, hang in there. I love you, bye.

Summer thinking, made me so sad.
Summer thinking, really is bad.
^Only I can make Grease the worst.

People are probably wondering why I don't have a job and the only way I can explain it is I need to go curl up in a ball for the next 4 hours and I am incapable of doing anything else.

And why can't I just be happy. This is the tip of the iceberg. I don't care about anything else. Back into hiding.