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InsomniacParanoidFrustratedHomesick?AngryRambling.
spencer, morgan, reid, derek, love
charlie_butler

I'm sitting at my brother's computer at nearly 4am and I've been typing for just about the last two hours. I was pissed at one thing or another and started venting to my sister on IM, but she had to go and I just kept typing and typing and typing and eventually I realised I was gonna need to get this all off my chest if it was bothering me enough that I'd typed nearly 500 words into an IM message and not noticed my sister saying goodnight and logging off.

So, I switched over to lj and just started venting. The end result, when copied and pasted to a word processor, was over eight pages of rambling bitchitude and the picking of emotional scabs long forgotten and I've decided to edit it, not for content or rambling-ness because I don't care about the content and I love the rambling-ness, but for spelling as I was typing faster than I could think, and to break into several paragraphs because no one wants to read a six page long run-on sentence.

Here's a recap of how I got to this point:


I've been in Nebraska for almost a month now. I know I said I was moving to NJ/Pennsylvania, but we got to NE, dropped off my exstep-dad and my little brother and when we went to leave the next day, my mom couldn't stop crying, which made me cry, and we were 30 miles into Iowa and she just pulled over and asked me if we could stay.

What was I supposed to say to that? No? You have to leave your youngest child behind and move 1000 miles away? I'd already agreed to move across the country because she wanted me to, I was just following her lead really. Just glad to be out of the valley, and while I don't know anyone here... I don't know anyone where we were going either. This decision didn't affect me very much. I told her to do whatever she wanted, she knows I'd follow her, and so we stayed in Nebraska.

At the beginning of this long rambling narrative, I'm talking about how everyone in this house/apartment goes to sleep too early. Honestly, it was 2am on a SATURDAY and everyone but me was out. My brother (28) and my exstep-dad had even gone out to drink and watch the UFC fights at a bar and they were back and asleep. My 12 year old brother was out. This doesn't make sense to me, I've always been an up-all-night (especially on the weekends) and in-bed-all-day kinda person.

Complaining/venting about that led to venting about... other pitiful things, other hurts (imagined or otherwise) and I just kind of went off. It was like the starting gun fired and I just... typed. For nearly two straight hours I pulled up rugs and poked at the dust beneath, I picked at emotional scabs and watched sad little droplets well up to the surface, I just talked.

And here it is:

I don't know anyone who doesn't live in *this* apartment, and they all... sleep early and ...wake up early... and ... it's just not normal, and I don't like it and I wanna stay up all night listening to music and watching videos but I don't even have a room to go to so I *can* be loud, I have to sit in the living room and be quiet like a good little mouse, but I'm not a mouse! I'm a person and people make noise, and life is unfair! And I can't watch videos on *my* computer because CricketWireless reception sucks here, and I can't on Corey's b/c they don't have a headphone jack (AND WHO DOESN'T HAVE A HEADPHONE JACK, IT'S JUST NOT FUCKING NORMAL) and I can't in the babysitter's room because her computer is locked and I can't figure out her fucking password.

And my exstep-dad is being an asshole and even though I'm 20, HAVE A JOB (which he doesn't), and am capable of making my own decisions, he still treats me like he did in Merced, and anytime Mom and I try to make some sort of decision he horns in and acts like I don't deserve a say even though, technically they're not together and I don't live with him, I live with Corey (my brother) and I really really really just want to punch something or someone, or some living creature that I know can feel pain or at the very least a breakable object so I can just see the damage I'm doing.

And I'm pretty sure I'm gonna suck at this job I'm starting at on Monday, and Ashley (my older brother's live-in girlfriend, mother of his child) was pushingpushingpushing for me to get it so I could work at the same place as her and she even threatened to quit if I didn't get it, and now she's nervous that I'm gonna fuck it up, which, of course, makes *me* nervous that I'm gonna fuck up (as if I wasn't nervous enough, this is my first real job) and I was supposed to be working night-shift and I was looking forward to hanging out with people who don't know me at all and who don't know of me or about me and have never met me and have no preconceptions of me, but Ashley wanted to train me so for the first week, I'll be going in at 10am to work day shift with her and it's gonna be weird and I don't have black pants yet, even though it's the required uniform and I'm really starting to wish I'd just gone to Philadelphia or fucking hell, stayed in Oakland with Jay because... fuck I'm really frustrated right now and I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna send this to who I was typing it to, I'll just fucking ramble until this bloodthirsty-cold-pit-in-my-stomach wanna hurt something feeling goes away.


And last Saturday, Corey took my exstep-dad out drinking so he comes back talking all kinds of shit and acting stupid as fuck and pissed me off enough that I didn't even fucking sleep, I just waited for first light and left the house and went running/jogging for almost two fucking hours, then my muscles hurt for days after because I haven't worked out very much at all since high school and that was two fucking years ago and I'm way to old to know nothing about what to do with my life and I'm getting off track and I really wanna just leave and run again because, hey! they went out drinking again tonight and watched the UFC fights but I can't leave for at least four hours b/c it's dark and my Mom'd have a huge fit if I ran around town at 2am, even though it's fucking Nowhere, Nebraska and there's like 7000 people total and the bars stop serving at 1 and close at 2 and the only crime ever really committed here is the occasional drunken bar-fight and I can't drink or get into the bars so there's nothing to worry about there and running just makes me feel better even if the only headphones I have are huge pieces of shit that I've duct-taped back together, I just like to feel the steady thumpthumpthump of my heart and the pounding of my feet and the bass in whatever techno/metal/rock/pop/classical music I've chosen for that particular outing and it's like I crave that feeling and now I can't have it for no reason at all.


And I really think I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel for complaints here because this isn't even *that* big an issue, but I just feel like I wanna get every little thing off my chest right now and it's kind of a big deal to me because I'm in a mood and every little thing from the last few weeks is killing me.

Sleeping on the hard-as-fuck floor every night (like solid concrete, no padding, and one layer of carpet) and I know I haven't spoken up but that's because I'm not a confident person even with my own family and I don't have the balls to ask someone to trade off with me, but it's been nearly three fucking weeks and why hasn't anyone else offered to take the floor just ONE-FUCKING-NIGHT and every morning I climb up onto the couch as soon as someone wakes up and there's an empty spot and isn't that like as clear as I can fucking make it without growing a pair that I hate the floor?! And I've got honest-to-god bruises on my hipbones from this floor. Even with extra padding, and it fucking hurts to sleep!!

And I'm used to reading on-line on and off all day long, but my phone service doesn't work here so I have to be on a PC, but the stuff I read, while not pornographic, isn't for innocent eyes because I mostly read gay-oriented relationship fics, and even if it's a more plot orientated story the main characters are almost *always* gay because that's what I like, but when I first mentioned something about gay when I got here my brother's girlfreind was like, "Yeah I know a gay guy, well two and they've been together a while,” and my younger brother, while he doesn't have an actual problem with it, really isn't comfortable, and my older brother... I know he also knows the *only-two-gay-guys* in town and is relatively friendly with them, but I'm pretty sure he's more conservative, and if not that he's as uncomfortable with the topic as most hetero males are, and my step-dad... he's always been kind of a dick about it. He's not like openly (or othewise) hostile or violent but... just the way he always reacts when I bring stuff up, and back during the Prop8 thing in California, and when I mention that Yeah, I read slash fiction and it all started with the secret relationship between Kirk and Spock back in like the sixties he just kind of scoffs and mutters something about me having a crusade of some sort and always tells people I'm so far left it's not funny, when I'm actually pretty in the middle, but when it comes to human rights I don't understand how he can say that yeah, they deserve all the same rights as straight couples, but not in his state!

And I'm... my mind just kind of shuts off because how the fuck does that make any logical sort of sense at all? It doesn't and he's a fucking bigot but he won't admit it. Says he has absolutely no problem with homosexuals of any kind... but. And then my brother's 8 year old daughter saw some pictures on facebook of one of my more effeminate friends and acted like she was watching the moon landing and the fucking martians attacked. I honestly don't think she's ever seen a gay person and if she has it's these elusive two that my brother knows and they must act considerably macho if she was that shocked by a dude in a scarf. It's not like he was in full on drag or something. Skinny jeans, a V-neck, and a scarf and it's a freaking side show to this girl!

So you see why I couldn't possibly read my stories in this place! I feel almost dirty, waiting for everyone to go to sleep so I can browse spanderfiles, or dash over to puckurt and read even the sweetest, schmoopiest, smut-free-iest stories because god forbid! someone in this house should notice that when the two lead characters hook up their pronouns are both male and then (with the fucking size of this place) I'd have to hold some kind of small press conference to avoid explaining it 17 fucking times because everyone would know in like 30 fucking seconds since we're all crammed into a tiny 2 bedroom.

And it's not like I want to explain to my older brother who I haven't seen in 6 or so years that yeah... I find both sexes attractive and that I lean towards the dude side and I think reading about gay sex is about the hottest fucking thing since the sun and reading about gay romance is just about the most romantic thing I've ever read and (holy fuck, pray it never gets that far) yeah, sometimes (a lot) I read the more alternative type stories and I don't think incest/twincest is all that bad, it's actually one of my favorite things just because of the controversy, and Fred/George is adorable but that would be sacrileage to Harry Potter, which my brother loves, and I really hope he never sees the Snarry because that's a convo I don't wanna have, and he *really* loves Supernatural (as do I) but I just happen to ship both Dean/Castiel AND the far more risque Sam/Dean and he'd probably flip if he noticed that not only was I corrupting one of his favorite shows, but I was corrupting it with gay incest at the same time!!!

And I know that there wouldn't be any violent or even really mean reactions (I hope) I just don't want to deal with the ridicule that I know would come from it. I'm not ashamed, but I know that the way they react would make me feel like I was.

And I can't even really vent in my journal because, duh! 8 year old girl in the house who along with being excessively violent is half a klepto on a good day. I've already lost 20 bucks, a tunnel (00g earring) which she mentioned she liked and a few other things and I really couldn't take it if she found my journal because ...I've written stuff in there at times when I wasn't in the best state of mind. and the rambling observational notes that go on for 30 pages at a time which I wrote when I was high aren't even the beginning of the worst I've got in there.

I've written stuff on my sexuality, some thoughts on gender-bending, anger, whole pages on cutting and why-I-did/why-I-don't-anymore/why-I-do-again, and speaking of cutting! First day here my older brother makes some off the cuff remark about I cut myself just to watch it bleed! or I cut myself just to feel that I'm alive! in this really retarded fake emo voice and I laugh and joke along with it. Saying Yeah, I do it all the time! And he says Yup! Me too! On the inside of my thigh so no one can see. and I kind of freeze for a minute because that hit a bit close to the mark.

I've always cut on the outside of my leg because it's pretty easy to keep hidden, did it on my upper arm once and my mom noticed the scars before they were even pink. So then, I had to recover quick and keep up the joking facade, Haha! Yeah, in the shower so no one sees the blood or notices my eyes are red! Which, 1) I don't cut in the shower, never have... don't know why exactly but that not really the point is it, and 2) I don't cry when I cut, whenever I find myself doing it I'm never feeling particularly sad, usually when I'm really pissed or nervous about something.

And I really don't know what the big deal is because it's not like I'm trying to get attention, I've kept them hidden for years, and it's my fucking leg and I'll do what I want with it, and I'm not dumb, I've never cut myself very deep, just a few layers of skin so I can see the blood welling up and collecting into droplets.

And what business is it of his if someone out there has a serious problem with cutting?! How is it his place to fucking ridicule someone who may have a serious problem?! I've never felt like it's a big deal, and with me it isn't but for some people cutting is a serious issue and it's not really something to joke about and even with me, it's not a joking matter because it's something personal I choose to do in my own private time and if I wanted it to be public knowledge or fodder for the comically challenged masses I'd flaunt it myself.

And I'm missing all my things. And I know that material belongings aren't everything and all that blah-de-blah sensitive shit I've learned over the years, but I want my stuff. I want my books! Twelve boxes of books locked in a fucking storage compartment and I can't get to them! And my clothing selection? It's always been pretty limited, now I'm down to three pairs of jeans, my paint pants, and the same 7 t-shirts I've been re-wearing for the last 3 weeks and fuck! I don't have my video games, can't watch my movies, had to leave my TV behind! I can't even write/draw in my various notebooks because I've only got what I could fit into my backpack and two duffels with me.


I'm creatively stunted, I've got limited time on the computer, which I can only spend doing all and sundry family-friendly activities and that takes me all of ten fucking minutes because really?! Checking my facebook is pretty much all that fits into that category and even that's only sometimes family-friendly.

And they don't ever buy fresh fruit or vegetables in this house. Canned green beans is the only vegetable they've served since I got here and the only fruit I've had is a carton of blueberries I snuck into the shopping cart when my exstep-dad wasn't looking (remember, kids, I'm not allowed to make/influence/even-be-aware of decisions made in this house) and the two pineapples I've bought with my own spending money. One was devoured by pretty much everyone in the house, except for the two slices I snagged for my cheeseburger (which, by the way, is fucking amazing) and the other I ate all of and then got sick from being greedy and from being allergic to the acid in the pineapples (And yes, I always have been, but really what's a little tongue-prickle compared to sweet pineappley goodness? Nothing.)

I've missed all my favorite TV shows, and again with the limited computer time hindering my Hulu capabilities, esp when the house is either chaotically loud or deathly silent and the computer has no headphone jack which I've already mentioned is fucking insane and fuck!

The little girl, the 8 year old, is stuck to my fucking hip like a barnacle to a whale sometimes and she's surprisingly violent. Within a week I had actual scars on my arms from her finger nails!!! And she borrowed my mp3 player which at the moment has over 800 songs and listened to (and sang out loud) the same 3 over and over and over until I was weighing the pros and cons between strangling her with the headphone cord or just bludgeoning myself with the nearest heavy object. Came down to it that I wasn't willing to risk jail time and a broken headphone cord, and the only swingable object nearby was a wiffle-ball-bat so that was out too.

Keeps asking if I've got a girlfriend. I said 4, she wants to know if I'm in love with any of them and... no I'm not, because I was lying to your little face in the hopes that you'd leave me the fuck alone, and although there are surprisingly more good looking guys here in middle America than I thought there'd be, I'm not too sure of my chances with any of them, even though there is this good-looking guy working at the gas station down the hill from the house and he only ever carded me once when I went in to buy cigarettes, even though I look like I'm 16. Tried to give him my id the second time and he said, Nah. I remember you, and smiled this cute little half smile and I said thanks and have a nice day and left because I can't make conversation with him! I'm a pitiful 20 year old virgin in every way!

And the next time I went he noticed and mentioned that the brand I was buying was different from last time and I said Yeah, I'm usually buying them for someone else, and he laughs and says Don't tell me that!, like I'm buying them for underage kids, and I laugh too and say Oh no no, they're of age, just lazy! and he kind of laughs again then we both wish the other a good night at the same time and I leave without really making any eye contact because - again, painfully awkward virgin-type here, I couldn't possibly be bold enough to look this guy in the eyes and talk at the same time. and even though I'm socially retarded a lot of the time I'm really pushing the awkwardness with this guy.

I actually brushed my teeth on the walk to the store because I didn't want to have anything in them in case he was working, then looked at him, don't know if I even bothered with cracked a smile, and I still haven't remembered to look at his frigging name tag so I just refer to him as that-young-kid-who-works-at-the gas-station.

I've really lost my place I think I was talking about how clingy this little girl is and just went of an a long-ass tangent about a guy whose name I don't even know yet, let alone his sexual orientation.

So yeah, and I miss my sisters! I know that's a really sissy thing to say, but I really do, I used to talk to them all the time at home when were at least in the same time zone, but now... Everyone here wakes up early, forcing me to wake up early because, Hello! I sleep on the floor of their tiny living room I can't actually avoid any of them, and I can't text my sisters until at least 2pm their time because they're like me, and they love to stay up all night and sleep all day and if I wake them before noon they'll just ignore my messages and be mad at me.

And I miss my older sister even though she and I didn't talk nearly as much as I talked with the other two, but the day before we left she hugged and cried which made me cry because it was just hitting me that I was gonna be moving 3000 miles away and wouldn't get to see her in forever and just earlier that same day we were swerving down the street in her car, crazy white people dancing to mariachi music and everything was fine and now... it's not.

And I miss her kids, my niece and nephew, especially my nephew because for a long time, and even now probably, even though I haven't talked to him in a month (too afraid I'll start actually thinking about him and start crying, I've just been avoiding that corner of my brain for a while) he was my most favorite person on the whole planet and he probably still is. And he lived in the same house as me since he was four months old! And he's only four and I don't remember anything from when I was four and I'm afraid I won't see him for so long he'll forget who I even am and that would just kill me and now I'm crying and I'm thinking about how my voicemail message is his voice saying I can't come to the phone and how I can never change it because he's not here (or I'm not there) for him to make a new one and it'd be lost forever and that too, might break me.

And I don't know anyone else in this place and... it's not a bad place really, it's nicer than the town we came from, but ...


I've never really been one for making friends but at least before I could go outside my house and I'd recognise people, I could exchange hellos with the neighbors and actually care what their answer was when I asked how they were, and here I just don't know anyone. No one at all who doesn't live here in this apartment, and I leave and go for walks sometimes and I don't see anyone I know and I don't like it.

I always thought of myself as kind of a loner, and maybe I am, but this is too much alone for me and I've never really felt lonely before and it's really throwing me off. And I don't know *how* to make friends because I've always had some sort of built in contact with the outside world, I always had school and after school, well I already knew enough people, had enough acquaintences that it didn't really matter I'd never bothered to make the connection go much past that, and here... I'm 20, jobless, and friendless. I'm acquaintenceless!

I've been joking around lately that I should get fake identification papers and go back to high school as a junior because then at least I'd be in a place where I have forced contact with other people and a built in if-not-friend-then-acquaintence pool to choose from, but I'm not really joking and I'm surprised no one's noticed because I've brought it up too many times in the last week for it to be a joke. If it was a one time and done thing yeah, but four times? It's not funny enough to be this kind of running gag and yeah, I've just gotten hired and I start work Monday, but... these people already know something about me. Whatever Ashley's said, and I feel like whatever front I've put up at the house to give her whatever impression of me she has, I'll need to put up there because there'll be expectations now.

She's said something about me being funny, polite, loud but I'm really the opposite and now I'll have to push myself to be a goof and be chipper and bright when I'm really, really not and I just wish... Fuck, I really do wish I could go back to high school, I liked it well enough the last time. Not even to make friends or try to be popular. I didn't do all that the first time around, I wouldn't now, but being in constant contact with other human beings is the only way I've ever know how to make 'friendquaintences'.

The two people I've kept in contact with the longest in my life are two I met back in 4th and 5th grades respectively, and one I can say for sure I only consider a friend because I've known them so long, I don't even really like this person but ... 10 years and you kinda get tied up together, shit happens and you're 'friendquaintences' for life.

The other... is my other half in a non-sexual way. We don't tell each other everything, or chat on the phone for hours giggling, but we think the same way, love the same shows and music and lots of the same movies, have many of the same views of the world. We text on and off, we draw up stupidly detailed lists for no reason, start and govern extremely pointless clubs/groups (which we, and the other members, are fiercely loyal to and proud of).

We devise ridiculously detailed plots for world domination and she even agrees to let me play figurehead if I let her 'pull the strings'. She's really better at the full-time control thing, I'm really just good for playing the dramatically overconfident and self-involved part and coming up with curiously well-timed and surprisingly creative little ideas to tack on to her original behemoth of a plot.

And I didn't even get to see her before I moved because she was interning in Yosemite at the time and didn't come back until a week after I'd left, and I had to give away both my dogs, one I've had for 10 years! And my beautiful half-hairless-half-dumbo rat I've had for three years got sick just a few days before we left and I couldn't get anyone to take him and the pet shop didn't have any open cages, and he was so thin, like Nicodemus from 'The Rats of Nimh' and my exstep-dad ended up releasing him in the alley behind our house for a last hurrah just a few hours before we left and I lie to myself and say he built an underground rat-mansion and got himself a sexy blonde rat-chick and had tons of rat-babies, when I really know that he was either lunch for a roaming dog or hungry bird or he just died of whatever was sucking the life out of him for days before hand.

And then we get to Nebraska and end up staying and my beautiful fern I named Link gets too much sun and turns brown and I've had him for three years also and I guess all my living things from CA just aren't meant to be mine anymore or they're not meant to be alive here, and not in California and my dad gave me that fern, and I don't talk to him much because he really doesn't care about me, never did, me or my sisters and it's one of the few gifts he's given me that hasn't fallen apart, or broken, or wasn't cash in a card his girlfriend wrote in and signed for him then sent a week early or a week late, doesn't matter as long as it wasn't on the right date, and now it's dead and I'm thinking about how I didn't even tell him I was moving because I half figured he wouldn't give a shit and was half-afraid maybe he would care and would want to see me first and that can't happen because we don't talk, I don't know what to say to him and I don't agree with him on a lot of things. Most things. Like, I have a cousin who was a girl and I recently found out is a female-to-male-transition or whatever you call it and the way he and the rest of that side of the family have just written him (my cousin) off as nothing to them makes me scared to open up and tell them anything about what I think about myself and sex and guys and girls and religion.

And abortion, and guns, and the environment, and health-care, and taxes, and fuck, immigration even. That side of my family is so prejudiced it's ridiculous. My sister has three half-Mexican children and she's been disowned, and my grandfather (poppop) says Sure bring 'em by, when they're old enough to drink because he's a sodden bastard who cares more about his image than his fucking blood relations.

He's a goddamn millionaire! Lives in a huge house, with a fully modern kitchen, built in bar, lots of land, three gazeboes, a wraparound porch, shooting range, whateverthefuckelse they've put in since I was 6 and my Mom left my Dad and we were put on the ignore list, while me, my mother, and sisters were scraping by on my exstep-dad's unemployment, section 8 for the rent, food-stamps, free lunches, never having new clothes, wearing the same shoes 3 years in a row and Oh! how nice of them to send us each two greeting cards a year, on our birthday and Christmas, to rub in the fact that they know we fucking exist, but they don't care enough to know that I've been sewing my own clothes back together since I was in 6th grade to avoid needing to buy new ones because I saw how stressed my mom was whenever my younger sister cried, demanded new shoes, or she needed new pants she couldn't possibly wear them twice in one week!

And I'm so far off track again. I didn't tell my dad I was moving across the fucking country and now the only present I have from him is dead and thrown away and I don't now if I even care about the fact it's from him I just loved my plant and yes it's weird to be so attached to a plant, but I named it I fucking named it and got attached and it was like a friggin' person and I dragged it 1700 miles to let it die in the sun.


At least I still have Taylor. Taylor is my sheep and yes I still sleep with a stuffed animal because I'm an unconcious cuddler and I need something to grab even if it's a little sheep and I named him too, I couldn't let him go. I have a problem with naming things, I like coming up with names for my possessions, then I get too attached, then I can't let them go. I've named every stuffed animal I've ever had, several toys, my mp3 player and phone, my notebooks, my computer.

And fuck. I am really random right now... thought I'd just ramble a bit and get the pissed-offness out of my system, but I am really off the path now. Didn't know a lot of this stuff still mattered to me... And now I've been typing for two hours straight almost and I want to edit this for grammar and spelling and punctuation, and... paragraphs maybe? And then I'll probably post it because... I don't fucking care right now how this looks I just want to put it out there and get it off my chest. And I'll probably regret how fucking random this is when I come back and look at my journal later, but right now I don't fucking care so … yeah. That's it for now.

Now I'll just do my 'pervy' thing and read for an hour before I can go running.

Ta-ta-for-now.
 

-charlie.


post-script: My first attempt at incorporating a 'cut' into a post. Hope it worked and I don't fill your whole screen with my ramblings.


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