People of the Internet, before I begin, I have a confession to make:
I haven’t been able to write on social media for some time because of three weeks without my medication. I’m very sorry for my out-of-control behavior. I wasn’t in the best of mental and emotional physique, and, hopefully, by my 23rd birthday (or longer), my mind and soul will be better. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be entirely better immediately, but, eventually, I’ll be stable enough to hold my temper with ease.
Friday, I called to see if my debit card balance was in. When I saw that I had $63 and change in the debit card….I bought four pairs of shoes at Payless Shoe Source (1 pair men’s shoes, size 6.5, 3 pair women’s shoes, size 8.5), and I’m happy that I took the coupon with me, ’cause, without that, I would be dragging my feet and shit. I’m wearing the gray men’s shoes right now. I’m just feeling awesome.
As I was writing in my diary, I just realized that having a routine made my life a lot easier to handle and now, I miss being committed to a routine, now that I’m thinking about the last 5 years, damn.
I have to say that it’s gotten harder to express feelings over the past 8 years, but I know one thing: If it weren’t for music, I would never be able to be myself the best way I can, so, I’m very happy that I’m better, now that the weekend’s over.
The song I’m playing on my laptop is a constant reminder that there is a constant war between stability and crisis, reality and fantasy, thought and action, publicity and privacy. That song is Raise Your Weapon by Joel Zimmerman (aka Deadmau5 [pronounced “dead mouse”], from his album, 4×4=12. This song, for me, is just the influential reason why I mustn’t give into my psyche, which is sometimes beautifully mature, but, other times is nightmarishly demonic and psycho, if I’m not medicated. The psycho in my psyche is, on most days, dead, but, when it comes out…it comes out to scare the living shit out of anyone who comes in contact with him (and yes, it’s a male demon…lemme tell you, Kazuya Mishima is his name, hee hee). The beautifully mature side of my psyche is sweet, spicy and badass at the same time, and she’s dominant every day. (Her name is Bella, by the way.) That’s what’s up.
Election day, last year, when Governor Abbott (God bless that disabled man) won, I was not too happy. But, when I went to sleep that night, I kept thinking of my boyfriend (a believer in Republicans) and it was impossible not to see his cute face smile at the Governor. Days later, when we were in his truck and he was driving us to his aunt’s house, I told him that I felt bad that Mr. Abbott won, but that, then again, I was happy for him, too. His reaction was calm and sexy, and he sweetly told me 5 words: You can’t win them all. How he said those 5 words was classically beautiful. God…damn.
Today, when I saw his Snapchat photos, I couldn’t help but smother laughter and smile. The first one had this one caption that said: “Work accident. A fairy died.” All I could do was laugh at my baby boy for that. The second picture’s was of a terrible mess, and its caption read: “This is why I hate [his] job”. (I’m going through his snaps right now, and I can’t help but laugh hard, even though I feel sorry for him!) The last picture’s caption read: “The racist peanut. One pro about work.” I just died laughing! I love this man. I love him so much. (*sighs, then faints*)
It has been 4 months since we saw each other in person. I’m still thinking of him, and, although I am not mentioning his name anymore, he is still the best damn gift God ever gave me, period. (I wish he would text or call me, though, shit!) Anyway….
That’s all I can write for now, but, I really wanted you, people of the internet, to know that I, Rosé Archangel Morgan, am alive and well. Please don’t get too concerned if I get a spark of inspiration and write an extended version of what I just wrote, okay, people of the internet? Everything is all good.
See you all tomorrow!
Peace x Love,
♥ Rosé ♥