I would like to say that this blog is in relation to my story (as I so desperately want to give you updates on that), but unfortunately it is not. However, quickly updating my story progress: there is none. The knowledge of what I want to write doesn’t seem to matter much when the motivation isn’t there. I think my lack of motivation is from handwriting it rather than typing it out – but I won’t type it out until I get another flash drive personally for the story. Only, I can’t do that at the moment with only $13 to my name and another two weeks until payday (I can’t even add anymore minutes to my phone, and those minutes run out tomorrow).

Rather, this blog is to update on my overall life.

My muse has been “stolen” from me. A co-worker is leaving to work at a bank in a different city and my office partner (AKA muse) is going to be taking over her position at an entirely different building than the one I am currently in. Me? I’ll stay in transcription (I love it anyways), where I will be training my new office partner (the brother of the co-worker that is leaving to work at the bank) and I will only get to see Lauren (muse) when I travel over to the other building to pick up a tape I have to type or something similar. We will rarely have the opportunity to speak and I am saddened by that. In fact, how am I supposed to speak with this new office partner?

Shall I tell you a bit about him?

Without disclosing his name, he is only a few months older than me and he is engaged. What aggravates the hell out of me is when co-workers and family members wiggle their brows at me suggestively, speaking of my new very male office partner. Don’t misunderstand. He is nice to look at. I will admit it. However, I am not interested in a relationship and I seriously don’t see him that way. I think it is cute the way he is dedicated to his fiance – he speaks highly of her and she picks him up at lunch and after work. Even if I did feel physically attracted to him, I am not a home wrecker and I am very angry with the co-workers who are going around saying “Kristina’s got a new boyfriend” just because I share an office with the guy!

Anyways, I find that he is easy enough to talk to though I hesitate to venture into any personal matters with him. He doesn’t seem shy speaking about his past, however. He was in the marines and, surprisingly, we have similar tastes in music (meaning he has been listening to some KPOP lately, specifically Gangnam Style by PSY which my readers should seriously look up on Youtube. Talk about addicting song!), and we get along well enough thus far.

Training him to do his job has also been relatively easy. He types fast and he listens well. I have only had to tell him something once and he remembers how to do it without my constantly having to repeat myself. He is, thankfully, quiet enough when he works aside from occasionally stopping me to ask a question about dictation – which I have patiently accepted even though I ended up a little backed up on my own work in this manner. I find that he loves to talk about himself. He told me about some of his “adventures” in the marines and I, not even once, opened my mouth to speak about myself. I listened.

My main concern about this entire situation is that I officially have no one I can talk to. There is no one I can tell my problems to without them, perhaps, reaching other ears. I only really trusted Lauren with that information and she would listen to me and offer advice – and she was available. I worry that the stress will get to me eventually and I may snap at my new office partner by mistake or end up sobbing like an idiot in front of him. I spent nearly 2 years getting comfortable around Lauren and now I have to start all over again. It seems so much easier to speak to another female than a male. I feel more self-conscious than ever before.

The only other thing is the times that I will be left to my own devices with the dictation and the file room, like at the end of this month – he has to go back to the marines for something for the entire last week of this month. This means I have to type three doctors by myself, keep up the filing by myself, etc. etc. It will also be the same once a month for the next several months as the doctor that visits one week out of each month will be returning at that time and they are also going to utilize my office partner as his assistant, stealing him from me as they did Lauren.

How much more until I snap?


Posted: September 2, 2012 in Anger, art, books, Help, journey, Life, story, writer's block, Writing

I haven’t felt very creative lately. I have made an attempt at writing a few short stories to get my imagination going again, but I hit a road block instantly and no matter how many times I start something, I can’t seem to get passed the first page.

I am feeling very despondent and upset.

My creative “mojo” is missing!


I feel like I should post an update even though I don’t have much of one.

Following my horrific week last week that rose my stress levels through the roof, I have yet to get much farther in my story. I am in the center (I think) of Chapter Four while trying not to move through things too quickly. I want to tell a story, but my mind automatically focuses on the main points, which will only lead me to about 100 pages, if that. So detail is needed. More scenes are needed.

Between stress at work and multiple podiatry appointments I have had a difficult time focusing on anything. My head has been hurting but those around me insist it must be a tension headache, and I am too stressed to deny it. I have no one to rub my shoulders or reassure me that everything is going to be fine. Last week was worse than ever. I ended up isolated in my office, they stole my partner from me for the week, I had no one to speak to, everyone was pulling me in too many directions, I felt as if I was pissing everyone off, I cried a lot, and I had to perform 5 different jobs by myself while my office partner and I usually would tag-team.

Friday (and maybe my readers will feel proud of me for this), I met up with co-workers at Applebee’s after work and ate supper. My plate alone turned out to be $20.63 (rest assured that is too expensive for me and I will rarely be taking part in that mostly because of the cost). We all complained about our week. They agreed they would have just as pissed off as I had they been isolated in their office without choice. I was relieved to not be the only one stressed out, but I wonder if they really got the gist of what I had to go through. They weren’t performing 5 jobs by themselves. They were still performing their own jobs, only with a slightly heavier workload. They can relate somewhat, but they don’t really know – at least I don’t feel they do.

So I was able to laugh a bit after my week, but I came home again to an empty house (not always a bad thing, but after a week of complete seclusion and stress I really wanted someone I could complain to that wouldn’t try to make their situation seem worse than mine). I usually enjoy being by myself and I slowly got over my urge to complain and settled down once again to find something to entertain myself – and I tried to write, I did. Nothing came forward even though I knew what I wanted to say. My disappointment with previous chapters has left me feeling despondent.

“Is this story going to work out?”

“Is it going to be any good?”

“Can I actually finish this with a goal of 300+ pages?”

I’m lost once again and, today is Tuesday, still stressed. My headache likely can’t compare to a migraine. I am capable of sitting up and performing daily activities. I am capable of laughing without worrying about my head splitting open. However, I cannot deny that it seems to have a constant presence in my head lately and I haven’t been able to sleep well partially because of it.

I’ve been having strange dreams about getting kicked out of home for some reason, where I entered my room expecting to see all of my things only for it to be empty and my cousin (the bastard I mentioned before) sitting on the edge of my bed while talking on the phone (I don’t know to whom), and then he looks at me, grins, and says “It’s my room now.”

What am I supposed to think? It is an irrational thought, I know, but it had me tossing and turning last night. The headache didn’t help matters.

Though I know the headache is not serious (I just do), if I so much as mention it to my grandmother she will insist getting it seen about. I get headaches when I am stressed and I don’t have the money to be going to a doctor just so they can tell me to take Tylenol or ibuprofen. Do you know how much it costs to see a specialist? And many could probably scold me for not having a primary care physician . . . Well, I will admit that I may have a small fear of doctors. Perhaps that is how I ended up crying when the doctor scolded me last week (those joining in, I work at a doctor’s office as a medical transcriptionist), for something I didn’t do. I have noticed lately that I can easily meet the gaze of my co-workers – maybe because I know them well enough now – but I can’t look a patient in the eye and I can hardly look in the doctor’s direction. As I have typed his dictation before, I know he tends to notice when people can’t look him in the eye.

“…patient failed to make eye contact…”

I may have a serious problem where that is concerned, but I don’t know how to get over it. I am barely getting accustomed to my podiatrist (though I seem him once a week now, for the last two months because of this STUPID TOE – might as well hurry up and cut the damn thing off!). I don’t have to worry about looking at my dentist. The light in my eyes is so blinding and I don’t have to concern myself about talking to her because she tends to have her fingers in my mouth the whole time (I don’t know why they ask you questions you can’t answer while knowing you can’t reply).

With all of the above complaints, I feel I should share a (perhaps) funner fact about myself.

I am a movie buff (they should let me become a critic!). I had several movies and I have been collecting ones that I like. I am still in search of the Hulk that is supposed to precede the Avengers and I am patiently waiting for the Avengers to come out (so funny!). Anyways, my father came over Saturday (truck driver) and cleared out all of his movies to give to me, bringing my movie count to a total of 232. Yes, 232 movies. Well, yesterday (after my podiatrist appointment) I went to Walmart where I indulged in buying 7 more movies that I have always wanted (two of which I have never really seen, but wanted). I got Big Momma’s House 1, 2, and 3 (haven’t seen 3), 17 Again (LOVE), and Pirates of the Caribbean 1, 2, and 3 (only saw part of 3). I did not want the fourth one. I watched the beginning of it and almost fell asleep (BORING). Plus, it doesn’t really connect to the first three anyways, so it is not a major loss.

That brings my movie count up to 239.

Note: Out of all these movies, I do not own Twilight or Harry Potter. I’m not too eager about Twilight as I have seen the first one and didn’t like it. I somewhat enjoyed the first four Harry Potter films, but was disappointed in 5 and never watched 6, 7, or 7.2. I have read the books, however, and I didn’t like book 6 or 7 anyways (7 was BORING, but I read it all only out of dedication to Harry Potter). Through Dad, I have ended up with the Hunger Games. I never had the urge to watch it before, but I went ahead and watched it since he brought it to me. Slow at the beginning, the ending was pretty good. The concept was good. I may even watch the next one that comes out (whenever that is).

So I am done complaining I suppose. I thought you all might like an update whether or not you actually read all of this. The gist of it is that I am currently having problems with the head, toe, and overall thought process. I am stuck in Chapter Four, not because of writer’s block, but because the motivation to continue is lacking due to disappointment and my refusal to return and revise chapters now for fear of losing interest.

I wonder if there is a better writing process than my approach….

Just One Person

Posted: August 21, 2012 in Advice, Anger, art, Life, Opinions, Reclusive, story, toes, Writing

This is not necessarily story related (though I will comment and say I have gotten 4 pages into Chapter Four at this point), but rather I wonder why people thing they can take one person and pull them every which way in order to complete about 5 jobs all at once.

They stole my office partner from me for the week (you may know her as my muse, Lauren) and I have had to do my job and hers. I am not complaining. I have her back and she has mine. It is everyone else I am frustrated with. They are fully aware that I am trying to do several different things and yet they still call me with idiotic questions that I already answered yesterday (if they would listen for once, they would know their answers), or ask me to do something else when I already have a different person breathing down my neck waiting for me to finish with my current task. In addition, due to our elevator not working in the building everything is getting done on the first floor. Well, our work (mine for the week) consists of two rooms on the first floor and one of the rooms has been taken over, leaving me incapable of completing that part of my job.

I was told I would have to do it all Friday (our usual “catch up” day). So now I have to not only do my work (Lauren will luckily be back with me by Friday), but I have to do the other things handed to me and catch up on a week’s worth of work for the other part of my job. I can only hope that a few co-workers will help me do that because that has to be done Friday. It can’t wait until next week unfortunately.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the elevator would work and everyone could go back to where they belonged. At the same time, I know that if I was doing that part of my job a certain person would wonder why I was not in the other room doing the other job. It is like a never ending tug-o-war. They want me to do it all, but I can’t, not alone.

And I wonder if they are going to steal my muse from me full-time next year or the year after. Will all of this work fall onto my shoulders? Will they hire someone else to help out? Will anyone be able to help out? I am already in a pickle when I get stuck and have no one to ask because everyone that can help is busy elsewhere. Eyes stare at me from every direction.

It is only Day2 of this horrific week and I cried (pretty much) all morning, especially when I ended up chewed out for something I didn’t do, but I kept my mouth shut because I love my job despite this and I wish to keep it. I am pretty sure if I ever end up fired it will be because of my mouth and not something I did. If I can keep control of that then I can keep this job for a while at least.

People wonder why I don’t like other people. This is why. They are inconsiderate, unsympathetic, pushy, cruel, and dismissive (they shrug way too much when I ask a question!). I am incapable of getting along with most people and I was cranky enough due to lack of sleep and a toe that aches so much it feels like it is burning (I had more toenail cut out in hopes this damn thing would return to normal). I felt hateful eyes today. I felt as though everyone around me was aggravated every time I spoke – though with some of those people I can say this: Ask me a stupid question and I give a stupid answer, especially when I already answered the damn question YESTERDAY (I have an enormous pet peeve of repeating myself, especially when repeating myself involves someone either not listening or believing what I say and going behind my back to ask someone else who then calls me to say something along the lines of “why is she calling me about this? I told you…” and yeah, I told HER TOO. Listen, listen, listen.

I’m really sick of people. At the same time, I don’t mind a bit of conversation every now and then.

I just want people to realize that I am just one person, not a tug-o-war rope. I do not have ten arms, fifteen legs, eighteen eyes, or 200 ears. I am relatively normal (if you can excuse my personality) and I believe I also fit the basic concept of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man (with the exception of being female). So maybe someone could be considerate enough to let me breathe for a minute before the combination of heat, cold (someone can’t control the damn A/C), and stress cause me to break.

Again, I’m just one person. Not a machine. Keep that in mind.


Posted: August 17, 2012 in Advice, art, baby, Cliffhangers, Help, journey, Life, story, Writing

I have made it to Chapter Three – that is “21 pages” in this books that I still don’t know how will translate when I type it up. I can relax a little because I know that typing it up will involve redrafting and revision where I can tweak everything and add more things (which I fully intend to do because my story still lacks the detail and “experience” I need to research). I am trying to go with things I generally know of.

I have been distributing my personality between my characters while giving them a few quirks of their own to make them unique. My main concern is that I may be moving too quickly in the story, but I felt it necessary to introduce my “second main character” (perhaps a main, maybe major secondary) so that I can move towards getting my main man out of his moodiness and somewhat back to “normal”. I also need to put the POV back to my main man before he is no longer my main man because he has been absent for too long. In all actuality, the story does revolve around him. He has been mentioned in detail in each chapter thus far and in each POV. I have not ignored his existence, but I want to hear more of his thoughts.

I am thoroughly enjoying myself and my cramping hand (I am handwriting all of this, for those of you just now joining in my journey). I have yet to drop this story and I almost constantly think about it, even at work. Work is where I came up with my new character’s name that I was concerned over. It is a “common name” I suppose, but not one that people use a lot so therefore I claim it as “moderately unique” just like I wanted: Of course, my muse helped! (Thanks, Lauren!)

Everything is progressing nicely despite disappointments and hesitations. If I keep trucking forward I can finish this book to get all of my general ideas and wants down on the paper and then go back and redraft it to make it flow, feel, and make sense. My characters seem to talk too much. There are rarely any actions. I find that I tend to sit them down and they apparently do nothing.

All of that will be fixed. As long as I notice the problems then I can fix them – and once I finish I intend to let Lauren read it to see if she thinks there is anything she would like to see happen in a scene/chapter.

I also want to work on cliffhangers. I need to find a way to keep the reader’s attention.

My baby is slowly growing!

Question: Can you describe your favorite restaurant in detail?

I have yet to continue with my story despite knowing what I want to do because:

1) I have to think of a name for a new character – interesting and moderately unique hopefully.

2) I am missing a few details for my next chapter that I wish to bring forth before I bungle it as I did Chapter 2.

3) I have a few things I wish to research before I go any further into the story:

a. Has anyone ever had a “screwdriver” (vodka and orange juice) before? If so, what did it take like the first time you drank it.

b. What is the atmosphere of a bar like?

c. (If willing to tell), has anyone ever been so depressed they were borderline suicidal?

Those are things that I can’t look up and questions I can ask without giving out my story plot, etc. After all, these basic things are typically found in a lot of movies and novels but I want to know how someone else sees these things and I have never known anyone to experience them. I want to explore the feelings, sights, and sounds (even tastes) that are associated with a bar scene and that specific drink.

I have been tempted, to get a better feel of things (because of my lack of experience in pretty much anything), to become more observant; to carry around a journal and begin to describe my surroundings, whether it be at work, among nature, at home, etc. My story lacks description and that is something it so desperately needs to be good and catch attention. Chapter 2 proved that. Chapter 1 is good enough that it only needs a tad bit of tweaking. I’m concerned about going too far into the story while lacking the experience and detail, but I am not willing to walk into a bar, have alcohol touch my lips, or anything that I wouldn’t normally do – not to mention crowds are very uncomfortable for me.

So if my readers are willing, I would like to utilize any experience you may have had in certain situations, things you felt, things you heard, and things you saw.

I will continue trying to increase my observation skills from my end. Perhaps a co-worker or even a complete stranger would stand still long enough for me to write out a description of them if only to practice writing what I see.

If I do decide to keep a visual journal, I will do my best to observe all details and I may even post what I write on this blog so that everyone can help me figure out what I need to work on. NOTE: The visual journal is not related to my story. It is just a tool (should I decide to do it) to better my observational skills so that the details in my book seem to pop off the page. I know things won’t have to be too detailed or else it could overwhelm or bore the reader, but there are things I have to work on.

I am looking forward to see any responses you all may have and hope you can help me on my journey to becoming a better writer and finishing my book. After all, I don’t have the money for “proper” teaching – though I always believed writing came from the heart and soul. =) I would like to polish my heart and soul to project my feelings to the reader.

Please help. I would greatly appreciate it.


Posted: August 14, 2012 in art, journey, Life, story, Writing

I have written two chapters in my story thus far. While I am pleased with chapter one (it needs very little tweaking), chapter two is horrible. I know what I want it to say but I must have rushed it a bit. I am very disappointed in the outcome. It lacks the emotion I wanted it to contain – it is just words. I wonder what my characters are doing as they are speaking and if I wonder then I have no doubt my readers would also wonder.

I have made the mistake in the past of erasing everything to start over while the story is still in process. I must resist doing so because I find that once I do that I begin to lose faith in my story and, eventually, quit. I don’t want to quit on this one. I like the direction it is going even if I hate the words I wrote.

I have promised myself that I will continue writing, even if I end up disappointed, and once I reach the ending and begin to type it up that is when I will revise everything – add emotion, actions, and sensory descriptions that I missed.

My refusal to get despondent because of an obvious mistake will be what helps me finish this story. Revision comes after the story is completed – after, after, after.

All I need to do is stay calm and be diligent. I can do that. I can do this.


More About Me

Posted: August 12, 2012 in art, brothers, dogs, Life, Reclusive, story, Writing

I thought I would tell everyone a little more about me in the interim between now and whatever my next post may be.

As most of you know, I adore writing more than anything. What you don’t know is that I also enjoy occasionally drawing or doing arts and crafts (anything to keep my hands moving and mind working). 

I am not a professional at drawing or arts and crafts. I do make mistakes. I drew the above picture in the ninth grade for a school art competition that my teacher encouraged me to join. The following year, after moving in with my mother, I sold this drawing to my aunt for $200 to help my mother with rent (we weren’t doing so well and I even gave her my savings so that we could have a roof over our heads for a total of $700 given to her for our rent). This drawing now hangs in my aunt’s home where I can see it if I ever visit her (and I rarely ever do), but I made sure to take this picture (the only picture I have of my drawing aside from a clumsy three I took of it with a cell phone I had because I couldn’t fit the entire thing in one picture – it is a large picture on poster board) the last time I went over. I sincerely apologize for not moving aroundthe lamp to take the picture. You didn’t miss much – just another pair of boots.

Trouble, Sienna, and Nassie.

I am also a dog lover. Trouble is my mother’s chihuahua that currently lives with me, she will be six this year (come the beginning of October). Sienna is my precious baby, a dachshund that I raised from a bottle because her mother couldn’t feed her. She will be eight this year, born September 11, 2004. She is the most loving, playful dog that I have ever encountered in my life just as she is protective. NASCAR (Nassie) is Sienna’s offspring and will be six this year, born September 24, 2006. She is my other baby and looks almost exactly like her mother with the exception of the fact that she is half apple-head chihuahua. She and Trouble have the same daddy, a pure white apple-head chihuahua by the name of “Peppy”, my grandmother’s dog. Trouble’s mother was a deer head chihuahua and she clearly took after her (RIP Precious, 2011, who lived to be 13 years old). Sienna nursed both Nassie and Trouble – a terrific mother even to pups not her own – because Precious (aka Baby) couldn’t care for her pups in her old age.)

My Best Friend Since Birth

Lastly, my brother is my best friend and I miss him terribly. He has moved 3 states away and we rarely get the opportunity to talk on the phone, but he is someone I can easily talk to. He is nearly (not quite) three years older than me. He is the only sibling I have and the only sibling I could ever want. We have a lot in common and he is easy to talk to. He will listen to my complaints without telling me I am wrong. He can word things in a way that will make them make sense. He’ll sit down and play a silly video game with me or talk on the phone for hours on end when the chance arises.

Bye Brother

I took this picture just before his departure, November 5, 2010. It was the last picture I personally took with him.

Saying Goodbye to the Babies

And my dogs miss him too.

My family is all over the place. My mother is six hours to the South of me. My brother is 11-13 hours to the North. My dad is a truck driver who I only get to see once a month. I miss them all.

I will admit that I have issues with my family every now and then (especially those I currently share a house with), but they are still family and it is hard not to love them no matter what they do – even my hellion cousin who will be 20 next month who was raised as our little brother. I hate the things he does and occasionally may even hate him, but I still feel my heart jump when I hear he has been hurt and I can’t rest easy until I make sure he is okay. He is a little bastard who does whatever he wants – things that are very difficult to forgive – but deep down he is still a “little brother”. We literally grew up together in the same house for 19 years. How could we not be “siblings”?

And yet . . . he royally pisses me off.

I thought I would tell you all more to get a better feel for who I am rather than just being the “reclusive writer” that I have been letting you get to know. There are multiple sides to me and I may unlock them over time. I have provided a few pictures as examples, but I doubt I will be posting many more. I won’t post many drawings because this blog is about my writing. I won’t be posting more pictures of my family because I have none and cannot get any. My dogs are a side story – another piece of brightness to my sometimes dull days. My writing is my dream and passion and that journey is what I want to tell everyone about just as I want to “voice” my opinions on controversial topics.

I hope everyone uses this to understand me better and I hope everyone enjoys my future posts.

August 12, 2012
~Current Picture~


Kristina M. Wilson

Clumsy Hands

Posted: August 11, 2012 in baby, journey, Life, story, Writing

I have spent my night writing up 9 pages for my story (though I am not sure how 9 pages of this particular “note book” translate if I were to type it all up) and my hand is cramping up. I have my writer’s indention back on my right middle finger (I missed it!). I could have started typing it all from the get-go, but I wanted a paper copy. Who is to know when a computer will crash or when a flash drive will stop working? I am taking the proper precautions, and editing everything can be done as I actually type it up.

I have also spent my time becoming friendly with the white-out. I didn’t have this problem earlier in the week, but the pages I wrote today ended up with me wanting to spell one word while my hand formed another (white-out) or misspelling a word (white-out) or even deciding to remove an entire sentence (white-out). I can’t remember why I bought the white-out tape to begin with, but I am happy I have it. I would hate to make scribbles in a well-formed paragraph or ex-out an entire paragraph and waste my precious paper.

Yes, white-out is my new friend. I could have written more than only 9 pages had I not had to continue stopping to fiddle with my new friend and erase unwanted words or sentences to replace it with the correct one. If anyone asks me what I want for Christmas this year – white-out.

I know 9 pages doesn’t seem like much, but I am taking my time to do this properly. I have not spoken about my story to anyone aside from letting them know I am writing one – and even my office partner only read the first two pages which honestly only reveal a depressed character. I had to make sure the beginning of the story could grab a reader’s attention and I utilized her willingness to do so. I trust her not to steal my ideas and write a story of her own just as I trust her not to speak about it with others. The rest of the story, I am keeping to myself until it is finished. I don’t want it to lose its magic or its spectacular ruling of my life.

I enjoy having something to look forward to after work or during the weekends. I enjoy the tingling feeling in my hands and the (good) anxious feeling I am overcome with. These feelings have never arrived before and it makes me certain that this is the one – this is the story that I will be able to finish (hopefully with 300+ pages). This is my baby – a baby that sexual intercourse could never make and only a select few could understand. Am I crazy? Sure. However, other writers may understand my sentiment exactly.

I have two “note books” (journals) that I want to fill – or at least fill one and half of the other. That should probably be around 300 pages to type up, if not more. The question is, can I draw the story out long enough without making it boring to reach that goal or will I fall short?

There is no question about it. I have a long way to go but I feel it will be an incredible, inspiring journey that won’t be without a bit of pain (cramping hands) or even some tears (if it is dramatic enough).

Now, if only I can form these words right on the paper so that I can lose my “white-out acquaintance” . . .

My Reclusive Nature

Posted: August 10, 2012 in Anger, Life, nature, Opinions, Reclusive, Writing

I am not a people person. Repetitively, I announce that I am not good with words and I constantly blunder what I intend to exit my lips. I withdraw for fear of saying the wrong things so that conflict can be avoided, but I notice things as well. I notice that, while I try to act as normal as possible despite my desire to be alone, it is not me that is pulling away or acting odd. Those who once carried on “small talk” are now strictly business. When I walk into a room where a few are having a conversation not related to “business” they instantly clam up or disperse and I am left wondering if I have done something to deserve this treatment.

People wonder what is wrong with me because I choose to be alone. For me, they are the ones with the problems. They are the ones who seem childish and frustrating. I withdraw because it is difficult to get along with anyone and I am constantly misunderstood because the words won’t form properly. Even my actions occasionally appear to annoy others without my meaning to. Yet, I don’t want to change who I am. I want people to accept me for me without trying to change me.

There are only a few who I feel truly accept me – only a few that I know I can trust without the smallest doubt. Sure, even we are not without our occasional arguments or moments of annoyance, but in comparison to everyone else around me the few that I can trust seem almost like “best friends”.

I’m a recluse because I want to be, not because I have no other choice. Would I mind the occasional invitation out? Not at all. I don’t get many of those. Would I like to be around other people constantly for “fear of being alone”? Absolutely not. I haven’t the slightest ounce of fear at being alone. I think on my toes and feel so much better when I am away from unwanted drama or the uncomfortable presence of another being in this house. I put up with a lot of things. I tolerate even more things. Do I have a breakdown occasionally? Yes. I just did not only four days ago. I’ll admit it, but it wasn’t because I was lonely.

In truth, I never feel absolutely lonely. If I have not been around another person for several days on end (if I didn’t work or live with someone else), I feel I could go a bit stir crazy; but I never feel alone because I can create people and write out their lives on little pieces of paper or even talk to myself when I think I’m being stupid. Sounds a bit crazy, I know, but I once heard that all “artists” are at least a little insane. I think my insanity can be accepted and my reclusive nature dismissed. I am who I am. I like who I am. While I don’t understand the majority of the people around me and others seem to purposefully piss me off, I do try to get along and only those I truly feel trust for know my true nature.

I occasionally get the “you’re crazy” or “haha, you’re so retarded”, but I don’t take offense. In fact, I even know how to make people laugh.

I feel so scatter-brained tonight. I wonder if this entry is even flowing like I usually try to or if my words are forming the way they need to be or the way they usually form from my mouth. I feel I am capable of better formations and writing. Of course, this is me venting a bit. I have two “people” outlets in my life. My brother, and my co-worker.

Justin, Lauren – you two are the only ones who know the real me. I want to thank you both for it (though only Lauren will see this) for you two are the only two I am willing to break my reclusive nature for thus far in my life. I sincerely appreciate your existence because without either of you, everything would bottle up inside until I blew up. My journal and this blog only serve as minor outlets in comparison. And I will always be there for both of you too. I want you to know that.

Haha, this blog entry is so random! I feel like I started off with one subject and finished with another. Please excuse me. I’m writing this at 11:00 pm.