Don’t Read This- Another Day

August 3, 2010

The night was moist. No. The night was dark. Wait. The night was quiet. Who gives a shit? The night is the night. It’s after 1 am in the morning and I finally decide to write something after a few day hiatus. I hate not writing everyday. I hate not doing something creative. Is this creative? We’ll see how it goes.

My cousin came over for the day with her 13-year-old son. They are visiting from Alaska. We hardly know each other. We got to talk a little this past Christmas and at Grandmother’s funeral this past January but it was very little. We’re even friends on facebook but we hardly know each other. We like each other we’re family. Even if it is my adopted family. The entire family has treated me like their own since I was adopted at age 11.

So, My mom, my cousin, her son and I went to lunch and then went to Granmom and Grandpop’s grave site. My cousin’s son or my 2nd cousin made rosary and he wanted ot bury it at the site. He did. It was sad yet a beautiful gesture. Grandmom really loved him. Her only great grandson.

We all came back to my mom’s house where I’ve been living for a while to hang out. I went into my anti-social world and on the internet on my porch to smoke. I edited my Serial Killer Coloring Book a little and wrote and returned a bunch of emails and got too hot and tired and went upstairs to nap. I woke up just in time for dinner with my cousins and mom. Of course I went out for a smoke and some coffee until dinner was served. We talked for a while and then I excused myself and went back to work on my project and played around on facebook. It’s as if my computer projects and internet world is more important to me than family I might not see for another year or more.

The next thing ya know I’m off to pick up a friend for a meeting and off I went. My Monday night meeting is the same one I’ve been going to for ove18 years every Monday. It’s my other family. It’s not just a spiritual event it’s a social event. I hung out talking to friends for hours and came home exhausted. I don’t know whether it’s my Bipolar disorder, social anxiety or too much caffeine but I am worn down and into feeling up to writing. I have to do it anyway. Right? Writers write. Right? Here I am feeling anti-social, depressed, tired but can’t sleep and I somehow feel the need to tell you this. Share it with the world. I only want to be social online and on my terms. I should have skipped writing this and just went to bed. I’m going ot go do that. Don’t read this ok? Thanks.

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