Streaming Consciousness

March 29, 2010 at 3:40 pm (Uncategorized)

Written March 26th, en route to San Jose.
*FYI* Lots of f-bombs dropped, sorry.  I usually don’t write down swearwords, only when I’m angry…’-_-

I told my ACA group I would write more, so here I am.  Albeit, dong this on the 17 bus probably isn’t the best time.  I’ll probably get motion sickness.
Lots of things going on in my head.  I want to call my mom, to rail at her and call her a fucktard.  Seriously, trying to kill herself on my birthday?  What the fuck? Another superficial wound again.  Under the influence, again.  Because no one loves her.  Huh, let’s think about that…no one loves her, and it’s March 18.  I wonder who she’s thinking about.  Couldn’t be ME, right?!?  And Tio Steve leaves it to ME to deal with it.  Granted, he didn’t tell me to call the police, he gave me the choice.  But…I asked him to do it, because really, it’s my birthday and my idea of fun doesn’t include calling in a 5150 on Mom.  No, he’s busy at work.  I should be more understanding maybe, I don’t own a business so maybe he really didn’t have the time.  And he did apologize.  But….I just feel it’s “It’s Gloria’s responsibility”  again.
The ride to San Jose is really pretty.  I wish it didn’t make me sick; I could enjoy it more.
I want to pretend Mom doesn’t exist.  Can I do that?  I haven’t talked to her since Thanksgiving still.  She called me when she was at Valley Medical, giving me the number if I wanted to call her (yeah right) and then she said “I’m sorry babe”.  Nah, she’s not intoxicated at all, because, you know, she calls me babe all the time *snort*.
Probably shouldn’t have sat in the back of the bus.  I think it’s making the motion sickness worse.  Smooth Gloria, real smooth.  Damn me and my paranoia (“I don’t want anyone reading over my shoulder”).
I like the sound of my fingers hitting the keys.  Don’t know why.
Also, I’ve been listening to the new Poets of the Fall album continuously.  It’s catering to how I feel SO well.
I want to live my life, but I feel like Mom, in some way, keeps dragging me down.  I miss her terribly, I do, but I would be really happy not to see her for a year or two.  It would suit me just fine.
Goddamnit, why does she have to be this way?  It’s not fucking fair.  I want my mom.
Dying to live…thanks, Poets of the Fall. You always know just what to say.
Twenty more minutes till I get into Diridon.  Yippee.
I’m thinking I need to stop writing, Feeling queasy,


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