The book was so graphic in detail that I gagged over my meal

I couldn't figure out why it was so upsetting as it was fiction, and about a race of peoples who have never existed and are only a figment of an imagination not my own

I had a good week in there where I slept normally. Maybe just noticing this has knocked me back from that and back into lying with my eyes wide and waking up before 7.

Lately, the word 'haunted' pops into my thoughts when I'm waiting for sleep to take me. Not by ghosts, not that, but also not by the living. And also by myself, I can't seem to leave myself alone

I wish it was okay to cry about this stuff at work and I wish the soccer moms would leave me alone and I hate moms anyway and that's why I never want to be one.

NO ONE WILL STOP CARING ABOUT YOU, I PROMISE.

Planted on the floor, I stare at the ceiling which seems especially far away.

Two feet makes a bigger difference than expected

I know if I think about it too hard, the void will make me scream out loud

And suddenly I am finding pens everywhere I look. Now, when I have no desire (no need) to write anything down

I am so tired of being so tired. And where are all of my working pens? Where is my phone?

6:59AM

I couldn't sleep and now I am awake. I woke up feeling confused and needing to pee. Then I woke up and I can tell already that today will be spent crying.

For once, I want a free pass to sleep through the whole day. Come on brain, let me have it. Fuck EVERYTHING and fuck having no control over what Life gives and takes from you. Fuck Life. So sad and so angry and when the fuck does it ease up a little bit?

I punish myself everyday, looking through anything that is related to you in some way. The pictures of you as a kid are the worst. You were fat, which makes me chuckle, since you grew up to be so skinny and noodly.

No little tubster knows he will grow up to get murdered.

Everything is bullshit.

Tomorrow marks the first month of you being gone. Sometimes I can't understand why I cry about it so much. I usually wake up thinking about it, and go to sleep thinking about it.

Anytime I feel unsafe, I think about it. 'You never know you never know.'

I punish myself more and more when I think of how I waited in the car while Josh went in to say goodbye to the two of you in bed. I was tired and my feet were cold. You were both naked which was hilarious. I missed it. That was my last chance.

I punish myself now, over the petty 'fight' we got into over Tumblr. I punish myself for unfollowing you after you did it to me, which sounds incredibly dumb. I punish myself for never IMing you to make it all better because we were both wrong. I punish myself and I punish myself and I swear I was getting up the guts to be like 'Hey,' because I knew you were hurting.

And all of this didn't hit me at first and when it hit it didn't hit hard but now the impact is too much and it's only just starting and maybe you hated me when you died and I won't ever know for sure. And what a selfish thought.

Failures

In that we cannot make each other whole.

Not in that aspect

http://www.communityrecords.org/?page_id=3807

This article made me sob. The last time I sobbed was the weekend we found out. All of this sobbing has made me realizing that most of my tears are just 'regular' tears. They're sincere and packed with emotion, but they're nothing to the sobbing. It has a life of its own.

Sometimes I never want to talk about it and sometimes I could go on forever, and always I feel uncomfortable and weird about it. I'm afraid of time passing and of the emotions becoming dulled and 'regular.' I'm afraid of everything.

I'm some parts crying for my own loss, crying for the shock of it, and crying for Josh and Kyle and Parm and Andy and Emily and EVERYONE this has affected to any degree.

Today I found out that he was sitting next to someone when he was shot. In my head, I kept imagining him on that couch (a couch I've sat on) alone. Somehow it was worse for me that someone had to sit next to him while it happened. That made me sob. I sobbed because Andy was so afraid and he was thinking the same thing that Mitch was thinking probably, about trying to make the situation safe again so that no one got hurt. A simple, honest thing to want.

I sobbed because I was one of those people guilty of thinking 'It was a bad neighborhood.' Andy is right, it's just as bad as asking a rape victim if her shirt was low-cut. Victim blaming is not okay in this situation either. So that was something I learned.

I wish it was okay in our society to grind our teeth and pull our hair in public with grief. Or that we could wear a ribbon, or certain clothes which signified to others that we had experienced a great loss. So that they would know why we were maybe acting weird in that moment. I wonder how long I would wear my ribbon for. It feels like forever. I feel like life is pressuring me into moving on, so I can't even feel 'comfortable' in my grief. Everything is rushed and bad.

I'm paranoid like I was before, but in a different way because my fears are founded. You can never be too safe, but it's a fine line between 'safe' and 'not living.' At dinner, my dad started to reprimand me about being in New Haven last weekend. I didn't want to talk about it, not then and not ever. I told him that to stop living is the opposite of what I should be doing. I was very 'me' about it, dinner got quiet and I felt bad. It isn't New Havens fault that Mitchell got stolen from us.

So, please please read the blog article that attaches to that link up at the top there. If not to read about Mitchell, or just pure nosiness, than at least because the writing is phenomenal and maybe you will learn something from it.

Be safe.

Weepy.

So I'm not on Facebook anymore for a while because I got myself in trouble using the internet...andddd it seems that no matter how much you try to ignore a problem, it has a way of haunting you via your Facebook.

So yeah, that's over for a bit. Plus, I will be applying to some career jobs and if they tried searching my Facebook before the first thing they would see was ~MIDDLE FINGER TATTOOS.

Anyway, hopefully in a week I can stop feeling anxious about internet stuff, but my Facebook will be deactivated for longer than that.

I miss Josh.

Tonight is just so bad.

I saw it on Tumblr, and any time I feel something close to normal the words "shot" "killed" run through through and through my head until I could vomit and so my brain shuts it all off again for a little while.