Step 1

So why grow up? Why move on? For me, its because of being hurt and missing the people that hurt me. Its sick isn’t it? Kinda twisted how we’re like puppies that get beat and flatten our ears and beg for forgiveness. Sure we did something wrong, sure we didn’t mean it, but the punishment is too harsh for the crime and we are more than willing to take all the blame if it means they never leave us. Just don’t leave. Beat me, scream at me, kick me, toss me, but don’t leave me because for some messed up reason we cant live without the abuse.

Anyway. Recently I have been ungrateful for the fact that the parasites have left my body, and that I no longer have to deal with their rotting garbage. I’ve missed the cockroaches that caused me pain and spiraled me deeper into my clinically diagnosed depression. I missed them so much. We used to have a few laughs and role play with our characters and listen to music and giggle about which one of our characters fit this song the best. That was fun. Sure. I loved it. But I’m friggin 35 years old now. That nonsense is for teenagers right? I gotta be an adult now in my barely above minimum wage job. I’m married and my husband loves me like no other so why the filth do I need those losers in my life right? I cant be makin up stories n crap. I gotta life right?

So instead of tucking tail and wanting nausea back into my life, I decided to just grow up. Move on. Be content. I love to write, sure. But I cant live in a fantasy world any more and beg people to come and play with me. Nah, I’m too old for that. I cant play pretend anymore, I need to take hold of my life and be responsible for it.

Now, does that mean I will no longer have story ideas and hear a song and think “Dude.. my OC would rock the poop outta this song!”? No. I don’t think that part of me will ever die. I quite enjoy that in its proper moment. The difference is I cant mourn the fact that the ‘fat ugly Satan worshipper’ isn’t in the car with me. Or that the ‘lazy butt-no necked-whiner’ wont speak to me anymore. I need to stop mourning those who’ve abused me. I need to be grateful they’re GONE. I no longer have to deal with the heartless.

So grow up, me. Move on. Be content.

Welcome to my blog.