I miss it there, I miss Selah House so much. I was the happiest there. A few months ago I was so sick of that word, didn't want to remember I was associated with them. I don't know why that is. Maybe its because I was finally feeling happier and hated the thought of needing someone to care for me, but right how all I want is for them to hold me in their arms and love me again. They have forgotten me I am sure of it, its like a tease- they love you and warm you while you are there, but as soon as you commence its like ADIOS! I don't know you anymore. It would have been nice if they checked up on me. Ok this is starting to get me angry now- WHY DON'T THEY CARE?

No one knows, but I am still so afraid and in so much pain but I appear as if I am fine. Which hurts for I thought they learned it does not matter what you see on the outside- it is how I feel on the inside, and to be honest that its disgusting. Its like my heart is decomposing, dripping everywhere, blood everywhere. SAVE MEE, no I must save myself. I can't! I don't want to give up- I am still fighting after all, but I am feeling so weak right now so I kinda do want to give up. 

That which holds me together is age, meaning I am older now, I think more and have no time to waste on harmful activities. Yet where are my current positive activities getting me? I don't see a future for myself, I see a life of poverty and I NEED wealth. I wont get those things- so why not just give up? Why not be sick and loved at Selah or somewhere else? Oh right they require money- that which I don't have. So I am stuck, stuck in hell, walking in a circle and often falling into the deep hole that stands at its center. Might as well paint and pretend like I am going somewhere. So I paint, and paint, and paint. Then I attend class. As I painted I recalled all the artwork I did at Selah. Do you know I actually came to believe that I was a somewhat decent artist? HAHAHAHA what a joke right? But that goes to show how good they made me feel. It made me more creative too- for a moment. Surely can't say the same for this action project, for my canvas looks a mere mess. But whatever its an expression of my emotions- it is my yoga. 

How do I become that which I fantasize of being? How do I become someone else completely? I tried sooo f* hard to change one to many times- not fake trying- real trying- real effort and It NEVER EVER lasts. I am such a ball of complication I can't even understand myself. Yes a ball indeed. Gross I am nauseous. The tears in my throat burn as I hold them back- swallow them down. It hurts. 

No one wants me. I paint this.