Expecting a blog to be constantly positive is like being a fair weather friend. You’re only with me when things are going good. When they’re not, you’d rather I didn’t exist. I had such guilty feelings about my last blog, where I just vomited every negative, fearful and angry emotion I was having. And I felt so bad about it. I worried about what the fall out would be. I wondered whether or not people would refuse to read future blogs because of it. And now I’m wondering why I give a damn. Because I really shouldn’t care what people think of me. I blog for myself. I blog for release. And sometimes what is being released isn’t pretty or positive or nice, or good, or constructive. Sometimes it’s flat out ugly shit. My life isn’t rosey right now. Is it all bad?- no. There are beautiful highlights and starry glimmers of hope. But yes, sometimes my life fucking sucks and I have to share that part too. I’d be fake as hell if all I printed where the pretty parts, or the flip sided positive spin. Sometimes I’m so down I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t care that I haven’t showered, that my hair stinks, that I’m sweaty and haven’t shaved. Sometimes I don’t even want to see my son. I want to lock everybody out for fear I may beat them just to have something, anything, to hit, to rail and and hurt the way I’m being hurt, the way I feel hurt and pain and anger in that moment. It’s not the best idea. So I contain myself. And then I’m angry because once again I’m containing myself. I always contain myself. So that the nicest most positive parts show. So I’m always thinking of somebody else and listening to somebody else, then every body wonders why I have so damn little; because I’ve given it all away. So, yeah. Sometimes I’m fucking ugly. And I’m angry and mean and aggressive. Maybe I should be public with that side of me more often; then fewer people would fuck with me. My heart is a heavy one now. I’ve always been VERY emotional. Whatever I feel, I feel with every part of me, down to the tiniest particles of my soul. And it shakes me. Whatever I’m feeling shakes me and I don’t have a full handle on it. So I choose to stay in and contain myself the best I can. I don’t show people how I hurt or get mad or even how intensely I love. I contain. And I’m killing myself. So fuck that. No more. If you want to read a pretty blog go somewhere else. Here there be monsters. The good the bad and the ugly. You don’t want the full spectrum, then you put on your rose colored glasses. I’m done with mine.