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It's that time of the year again, when I lose my fucking cool with those in my life who decide to judge me on Halloween.

GOOD TIMES!

I don't see why they see it as absolutely imperative to let me know how me dressing up as whatever the fuck, will automatically condemn me.
The actual saintly people in my acquaintance will calmly watch, often enjoy, as everyone parades in his or her costume... not saying a word.
But those dumb motherfuckers who have one mega-long tail for others to step on? First to fucking judge. FIRST.

If you're divorced: fuck you. Shut up. Don't judge me.
If you fucked before getting married: Fuck you. Shut up. Don't judge me.
If you had a kid out of wedlock: FUCK YOU. Don't judge me.
If you'e ever done drugs: FUCK YOU. DON'T JUDGE ME.

Treat others as you'd like to be treated.
You will be judged with the same severity you judge others.

BE KIND.

... And take that fucking stick out of your ass.

My goodie-goodness will probably trump yours, as far as the bible rules go... so fuck you for your self-righteous sermon all because I dressed like some motherfucking zombie or whatever the fuck I choose to be.
Quite frankly, I only keep dressing up to troll these dickheads.

Happy Halloween!

Guacamole epiphany

Ahhhhh... the loveliness that is the cool down stage.

I've written so many posts... but decide against posting them because, as always, they're pretty fucked up. They're either suicidally depressed, terrifyingly aggro, or incoherent as fuck... actually, they're USUALLY incoherent as fuck. Regardless of the vibe, they're all posts I prefer not putting out into the internet.

It's strange how my true "voice" comes out when I'm at my angriest. Get me to reach the highest level of outrage, and just watch my inner, very distinct voice pop out in all of its depressed, ghetto glory.

This has proven to be the best therapy for me. I need to release everything I'm feeling... cry as desperately as I'd like while re-reading this shit... and then just forgetting it exists.
Either my thoughts make sense and teach me to watch out around certain people in my life, open a gateway to how I could possibly FIX my problem... or it just opens my eyes to how fucking hysterical I can get when I bottle up too much for too long.

Yesterday was a nice clearing for me, after I found myself crying into my guacamole (no, really. I cry such giant tears, they roll right into my food most of the time).
See, I ran some errands yesterday afternoon, which ended in me shopping at a nearby mall. As I went from one store to another, all sorts of dudes hollered at me. From catcalls, to dudes stopping me at the food court, to randomly getting offered a job at Nike-- dudes were all about complimenting me... being very nice and gentlemanly toward me.

I hear girls normally like this. But I'm not normal. I'm AnoMALIE. I CRY. I get upset.
I'm not accustomed to others being nice to me, much less being attracted to me. It's always so foreign to me. And this upsets me.

Recently, I've switched up my look, especially my makeup.
I am currently obsessed with the cateye, and I'm experimenting with how dramatic I can make the swoop without it making me look too mentally unstable. I'm also into dark lip color... purples and dark red, to be exact (I can't quite make the leap to black... but I have the dopest deep purple that is the fucking BEST color I've ever found).
I'm also on the final stages of growing out my hair (counting down the hours until November 2nd), and it's a fucking pain in the ass. Instead of blowdrying my hair or applying hair product and all that shit, I just pick it up in a high ponytail and braid (I'm gonna miss the creative liberties I've taken with these braids. I should be hired on the GoT set... I can braid like the best of them. Of course, this was bound to happen, given that my fucking ponytail is 23 inches long-- a motherfucking whip!). Apparently, from what others have told me, this really showcases my eyes and cheekbones (what's left of them, that is. I'm so fucking haggard looking most of the time. I think I have a sad-dog face, but hey... that's just me... I think... I hope?). "It kind of makes you look asian... all exotic n shit."

SO, I'm guessing this new look makes me more noticeable to dudes, which is not something I was going for... I was just getting creative with my face.
Why does the attention bring me to tears? Because I can't help but feel heartbroken over the fact that FUCK my personality (I'm cool as fuck. And Smart. And kind. I don't give a shit what some people may say. I KNOW I am at LEAST those three adjectives), that shit is fucking worthless... what matters it what you do with your face! My worth seems to be measured by something THAT FUCKING SIMPLE. And it fucks me up. It's so fucking ridiculous and... FUCKING RIDICULOUS.
I'll never get over that shit... regardless of how much time may pass. The fact that the majority of humanity measures my worth based on my fucking physical appearance FUCKS ME UP.
To be on the receiving end of mistreatment looking one way (fat, no make up), and then suddenly being venerated the moment you switch your look... is mindfucking as HELL.
Guys wouldn't mind tossing me off a bridge as a fat girl (or are willing to shoulder-check me into on-coming traffic when I'm not wearing an ounce of makeup)... guys are calling me every polite and charming word in the dictionary WHEN I HAVE NOTICEABLE/OFTEN EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF MAKE UP ON MY FACE. That is NOT cool.

SO! This had me crying into my guacamole yesterday.
And that point seemed to be the climax of my depression... or... is it the opposite of a climax, since depression is more like hitting rock-bottom?
Whatever. This little meltdown had me going to bed crying my eyes out... then suddenly, BOOM! Clarity in the morning.
I guess I finally cried out all of my frustration...
aaaaaaand I'm good.

I am a-ok.

burn my ducts already

Ahhh, yes, now it's the crying stage of my rage/depression episodes.

I've been crying all fucking day.
Actually, I've been crying since yesterday morning.
None of that "gross" crying with the sobs and runny nose... it's just me sitting down and tears rolling down the sides of my face... a non-stop warm flow of tears streaming down.

It's exhausting having to act like everything's ok, like nothing bothers me, like I feel nothing... even more so trying to make others laugh when the stuffiness of pent up tears damn near blinds me.

No, no no... YOU laugh. Heaven forbid you have to hear about MY shit. No need for that awkward downer. No, no... laugh. Please laugh.

I'm so angry and so sad... I have no fucking clue how to act. I just know I'm tired.

The bile, it is a-building

I really wish family drama wouldn't interfere with my writing, but it does.
I have been SO fucked up these last two weeks... I can't think clearly. I am only ANGRY the whole fucking time. I damn near went to the hospital yesterday because I was SO angry, I was suffering from a horrible pain in my stomach for two days.
I tell you, I'm visceral as fuck... when I feel rage, I FUCKING FEEL RAGE.

I am so disillusioned, but above all, furious, at how fucking shitty my family is proving to be.
I have spent my life thinking that family is everything... I have done MORE THAN my fair fucking share to make their lives just a little bit better. I have swallowed all of their backhanded compliments, "thinly" veiled insults, and downright public humiliations... all for fucking "family's sake."
I have harbored nothing but love for these fucking assholes with whom I just so happen to share ancestors... making myself believe their ill treatment of me and often my entire family, as "learning lessons." I've excused their bullshit as them "having a rough time" or "not knowing better." "Maybe they didn't know they were insulting me... ?"
But seriously... a 16 year old guy slapping me across my 7-year-old face with flour and throwing me against the floor in front of three other cousins who LAUGHED was them "not knowing they were humiliating me"? REALLY?! FUCKING REALLY?!

It's fucking ridiculous how many stories I have relating to these motherfuckers purposely acting injurious towards me, physically hurting me, psychologically/emotionally scarring me... and me just shutting the fuck up and forgiving them because I've been taught to "be a good girl," "to forgive," to be motherfucking empathetic... sympathetic to a fucking fault.
"Because you don't want to stir shit up."

And to all this, I keep asking, wondering, analyzing just what in the fucking hell I have done (I should say we, my parents and siblings have each been on the receiving end of some fucked up bullshit from these people) to DESERVE this.
Did I insult them at some point? What the fuck did I say or do that warranted this bullshit?

I (we) have done nothing. Quite the contrary, we have pulled them out of debt, we have taken care of the ill, we have given their criminal-asses jobs when no one else would, we have bought them cars, homes, VACATIONS, WEDDINGS... but still, STILL they find a reason to say and do some fucking WACK shit.

And it drives me fucking crazy.
It makes the bile in my system just... fucking rise. It makes me dizzy. It makes me faint.
So much rage, and confusion, and disillusionment... goddamn, is this what Don Quixote felt?! AM I DON QUIXOTE in this fucking family?!

I'm also confused... because I don't know how to react. I'm STILL scared I'll be accused of overreacting.
But... when have I ever overreacted? People often think I'm a goddamn mute or just boring because I'm so languid and detached in person. I am a mouse... it takes great effort to get me to say a word.
And still I manage to offend people-- blood-- to the point where they inexplicably hate me and intentionally aim to hurt me.
What in the fuck, man?

I HATE thinking that these people are "jealous"... though I often hear others explain it to me that way. I feel foolish even assuming this is a possibility.
"Don't try to find an explanation to someone's jealousy... it will drive you crazy. Oftentimes, it has NO explanation."
But I mean... what is there to be jealous about? I TRY TO SHARE as much as possible... I try as much as possible not to be selfish about what I have or what I can do. I thought I was making that clear... not "boasting" about it... just... proving that I was ready and willing to share the good stuff.
I give genuine, heartfelt compliments. I feel genuine joy at the positives in the lives of others. I try to help to the best of my ability when it's at all possible. HONEST. Nothing makes me happier than the happiness of others, especially my family's.

When it's bad stuff that is going on, I keep that shit to my own damn self. I prefer others to believe I'm a total weirdo than to clue them in on the fact that I'm motherfucking dying... that I am just fucking dying on the inside.

Is my ability to keep quiet and internalize the bad shit making it too difficult for others to realize that my life isn't all good?
I thought my inability to comfortably stand in a room with more than six people made it abundantly clear that my life isn't all rainbows and unicorns.
My inability to hold eye contact isn't indicative of my life maybe not being super rad? Not indicative of me having poor self-esteem?
Has everyone forgotten the constant, daily verbal abuse I took for being "fat" throughout my school days?

I fucking don't get it... and it's breaking me.

This shit is interfering with my creativity, with my peace, with... everything.
My heart is fucking shattered and I have no fucking clue how to pick up the pieces, if it's even worth attempting to salvage any of the pieces.

Feelings suck. Lies suck. People suck.

Joking but not really joking

I possess this special ability... well, I don't know if it could be called an ability... I'm just gifted at being around some place at the wrong time.
I'm gifted at having others express really fucked up shit in my presence, because they know I won't go off sharing the information (unless this venue is considered. I fucking over-share on this bitch).

ANYWAY. Let's take it back to four year ago, when I was attending a baby shower (or... maybe it was a christening?), mainly because my sister didn't want to go to the party on her own. She was going to use me as an excuse for bouncing early... so I agreed.
As the night wore on, (! it WAS a birthday! I just remembered the pregnant girl) I became increasingly comfortable BECAUSE I had a fun app on my phone with which to play. No one was trying to drag me into small talk, and my sister found her niche of ex-coworkers to talk shit. This shit-talking powwow worked well for me because everyone was talking shit about someone I did not know... until one of the girls mentioned another female from Hometown.
Rose: This girl is such a fucking idiot. I tell my cousin to dump her fat ass... we'll find him a new bitch to get him papers, but he doesn't listen!
Sister: Wait... you're talking about *HometownChickThreeYearsMySenior*? She's a legal US citizen? Hm.
Rose: Yeah. My cousin only put up with her gross ass because she's his gateway to legalization. That bitch irritates him so bad... I don't know how you guys could put up with her in Hometown, she strikes me as MORE repugnant out there, since she's now considered a "Northerner." Insufferable bitch. But she'll get what's hers.

Everyone laughed. I looked up from my phone, completely disgusted.
True, I never really liked the girl being torn to shreds, and the mean girl was sort of right to an extent (HometownGirl WAS pretty insufferable back then), but to take such pleasure knowing you were playing with someone's feelings and future like that sickened me.
But everyone laughed... so it must have been a joke, right?

The fact that I didn't tell HometownGirl... does that make me a bad person? I mean... there was really no way for me to KNOW what I had heard was real, right?

I didn't say a word.
HometownGirl married the dude... went through the immigration process which included the dude moving to HOMETOWN-- which wasn't his at all. He isn't even from my state. He lived with his wife's family, and we all tried making him comfortable, always including him in our summer activities when we'd go to Hometown. We embraced that guy and let him know he was not alone.
His now-wife stayed here in Vegas, and would send him money.

Then he got his citizenship (my brother worked at the US consulate in Juarez at the time, was assigned this case, and had to refuse it due to conflict of interest. HometownGirl and all families still think they owe the citizenship to my brother. "Nah, dude, I fucking looked at the name and immediately tattled on myself. 'Nope. Can't do this one. I know the guy.' And I was off the case... but they're free to believe whatever the hell they want"), came back to Vegas, and lived a life where he yearned for HOMETOWN, not his own, but MINE.
Fast forward to last month, when the dude visited Hometown for the patron saint's festivities.
This motherfucker was drunk every single fucking day of the first two weeks of September. Every single fucking day.
This bitch didn't let me sleep at night because he'd sing full-blast in front of my house with a live band and a MOTHERFUCKING MICROPHONE... until 4:30 in the fucking morning. IN A MOTHERFUCKING TOWN IN THE MOTHERFUCKING WILD!
I. Hated. Him.

I kept wondering why his wife wouldn't go looking for him, dragging him home... what kind of careless wife is this woman?!
Often, I'd fight the urge to run outside and get in the drunkard's face. GO HOME AND SING IN FRONT OF YOUR OWN HOUSE, YOU DUMB ASS SON OF A BITCH!
But then I'd remember what part of the world I was in, and remembered about the barbaric atrocities people in that area are capable of perpetrating.

Short skip forward, to last night, as we watched the soccer match between my two countries.
My yelling and tachycardic episodes all came to a complete silence when HometownGirl showed up to the gathering, crying... completely destroyed.
She's getting divorced.
He really did only marry her for her legal status.

I froze in the recliner I had been swinging in, and covered my mouth, averting any eye contact with anyone.

I knew the whole time. I knew before it happened... but I didn't want to believe it was real. I didn't want to think others were capable of doing that shit, let alone BRAG about it.

Am I a bad person? What do I tell this girl? DO I tell her anything? Man, that felt like shit.

... And this is why I don't like people.