compulsive

compulsively taking things from other people. well, sister, niece, brother in law. still not okay. fucking put the nylon strings on the guitar already. wash the fur that your sister was so mad about your using it. don't take this wooden flower for the hair, it is extremely special.
people apparently have different ideas of what matters and what doesn't.
it sucks when two people have a similar attitude. they will hate each other more than otherwise.
worse, if it's not simply an attitude, but a trait of character, that has to be worked on.
oh, my whole body hurts.
even that we have similar - how our body reacts to emotional stress.
not talking.
not walking.
last minute stress.
that's how it always was.

I remember how I broke the drum in the Octagon in Alaska, Homer. Everybody was gone and I was so terrified that I just ran away. Our friends asked for days who knew what happened. One day my dad sat there with who I thought was his favorite daughter on the lap and said 'Emeralda, you can admit it, if it was you, nothing will happen, we'll just replace it!' and she added something so smart and wise that I wanted to throw a chair at her, like yesterday because she hasn't changed either. No, I wasn't nice.
I was small and I was scared and I insisted on not knowing what it was all about.
You'd think that's something that is so long ago that I should have figured it out by now.
I apparently have not. I do confront but only once. That ain't enough. And that's pretty devastatingly frustrating, my dear.

Some people have mercy for other's problems and flaws and mistakes.
Other's don't.

I've had my glorious five minutes as a favorite and now I am being rolled down the hill. Thrown over the cliff, with open eyes.
It doesn't feel good. It makes me cry. It makes me feel unappreciated. It makes me feel like I am tired of being a loser.
And, in the same time, it's not like I didn't know that she talks like that. Behind backs. There just was never a sign of love whatsoever. See, even this we share. That we need to be shown love on our terms. The difference is, I gave her massages. Oh well. Petty lives.

It might be time to stop doing things I so obviously can't.