From Aryn

Write exactly what's on your mind, don't change it.

1. You and your ex = I miss him so much.

2. I am listening to = The Pogues.

3. Maybe I should = Try to move on.

4. I love = Ro.

5. My best friend(s) = are currently Marcello and Gina.

6. I don't understand = why things had to turn out this way, they used to be so good.

7. I have lost my respect for = myself.

8. I last ate = some time yesterday, I think.

9. The meaning of my display name is = they are the tools of my trade.

( Read more )

I don't know why I keep doing these surveys. Maybe because I can post something without having to actually say anything. I didn't bother to filter this and for once I made an attempt at full disclosure, not that I'll elaborate on anything I said here. But it is what it is and I mean what I wrote.

[locked to those who know]

I quit. I give up. I surrender.

The universe hates me. I get that now, I truly do.

If it's not something soul-crushingly painful and horrific, it's a million little inconsequential things that add up. I cannot catch a single, simple break. Ever. Everything I touch...I think I ruin everyone's lives. Always have, only I'm just now realizing this.

Mike called and left me a voice mail.

He can't keep Mr. Beaker for me any longer. The one thing I thought I wouldn't need to worry about was my puppy. I thought he was well-cared for and loved. I thought he had a new home with someone who would take the best care of him. My poor puppy. Mr. Beaker won't eat. He's destructive. Mike said he's lethargic and whines all the time. Sits by the front door and won't move.

That was the final straw, I think. I listened to his message and could hear Mr. Beaker whining in the background and my heart just broke. Shattered. Completely. It's enough to make me want to get on a plane and go get him. Of course Alessandro told me I was ridiculous.

And we fought. I hate it when we fight. When he yells at me like that. When he won't yell anymore and looks at me with those dark eyes and speaks so softly I can barely hear him over the sound of my own breathing. I hate it when he ignores me. I hate it when I let him down. Disappoint him. When he doesn't love me.

I don't know what to do any more. I've been in my room the last two days and I have cried until I can't cry any more. Been ill so often that there's nothing left inside to get rid of and my muscles ache from trying anyway. I can't stand being in my own skin anymore. I can't stand being me. I hate this. I hate it. It's just...it's hard. It's lonely. Empty.

It's worse than being trapped in that apartment with him. I feel just as tied. Just as helpless. Just as scared. The only difference is this time...this time I know no one cares. No one is looking for me or wondering where I am. There isn't anyone who will come save me and make it better.

This time, I did it to myself.

Email to Rory

To: rory@breakerstreet.net
From: pippaperson@aim.com
Date: January 20th
Subject: Mr. Beaker

Ro,

I don't want to impose, but before I left you said to have Mike call you if there ever were a problem with Mr. Beaker. He called me. Mr. Beaker is apparently more than he can handle and would like me to find someone else to take him. I am really sorry that I have to ask you this, I know you don't owe me any favors, but would it be possible for you to take him, at least short term until I can figure something out?

P.