So I guess I'll just type and see where that gets me while I try to come up with a catchy title, just to grasp the attention of anyone left who thought I was dead.

I was recently inspired by an artist, whom I started watching for her journals. Her art is fabulous too, but I found myself awed by how she writes these incredibly beautiful, incredibly personal journals. I don't normally care to watch journals of anyone not a personal friend, but I really liked her bravery, and I wanted to write journals like that too. So instead of sleeplessly pacing my apartment popping Lorazepam's like candy, I thought I should maybe just go ahead and type something for the first time in nearly.. two years. I have something particular in mind that I have been meaning to type for months now but, that will have to be the next journal, there's some catching up to do first.

Hmm.. this journal thing is not as easy as it used to be =/ I remember a time when I'd type them everyday and how therapeutic they could be, pointlessness of the topic be damned. But then I gave more and more into fear of being too personal, even though I know next to nothing about 99% of you who will read this, and I have zero reason to care how you judge me, if you even care to judge at all. Yet regardless I am completely walled by need to not be some bawing angsty broken girl, and I'm not allowed to type things or draw things that tell too much about me, because I'm going to end up bringing someone else down with me. I hate to bring people down, it becomes a downward spiral of guilt thereafter. And its all rubbish thought, really. Because why waste yourself on little bad things when you can waste it on little good things? Life is short, and.. STUFF. Yes stuff. Glorious little taken-for-granted things that make life beautiful. You won't understand the way I do, I hope you never find out the way I did, but hopefully I'll enlighten someone, maybe just a little bit.

There, I've made it onto a positive note, what perfect timing for my ferret to pop up wanting her noms and to go "Hi Im here! I'm a ferret! Love me =3?" while the baby ferret stretches into some awkward flail-looking position into the warm spot left behind. Little devil can't even look calm in her sleep.. hah. Oh by the way, yes, I have 2 ferrets now. The 5 year old albino, Mosey, and the 3 month old sable, Mira. Great therapy animal, by the way, such charming little pranksters.

And oh, I moved out, I no longer live with my parents. Things are much better this way between us all. And OH, I have a boyfriend! Our one year anniversary is coming up in 4 days! And oh freakin oh, I literally died last year. Well.. cut it really, REALLY close. Might need another lorazepam to not delete those last couple sentences... but it has to come out eventually I guess. If I intend to truly use my journal as a means of expression during a time where I'm still physically limited. Oh and did I mention I got ferrets and they're hilarious fun? Yes, let's focus on the fun for tonight.

Like the fun I had last night, boiling my watercolor pencils. Yes, boiling. I tore open some stubbies with a scalpel and threw the leads in a pan with some water.. Looking back, maybe I should've thrown watercolor paper straight onto that to see if I got a wierd texture.. meh, an experiment for future days! Makes me wonder though if the career path I tried to take as a baker and chef was right. I love to be creative and tactile and all but.. sometimes I think something as boring sounding as chemist would've been more appropriate for me, seeing as I like throwing things an a frypan that don't belong there just to see what they do >x3

Is it okay I'm now going off a topic I don't think I ever fully established? I mean, now I'm starting to have fun. Just me, typing, ferrets sniffing my toes and pondering things that might also be fun to apply heat to. Is it okay or is it the same pointless banter no one gives a shit to read about? How do I find the courage to sit here and say all the things I've wanted to type here for 2 years that I let myself be afraid to say? Right now my best therapy is to think of those little things, because I had that moment where the little things literally kept me alive, and as such, the little banters are personal and very important to me. So to answer my own question I guess, yes, it's okay. I momentarily forgot I'm not supposed to let myself be disgruntled by the judgements of others. My bad.

Maybe it's the pills, or maybe it's the relief. I actually feel better now, just... BECAUSE. Yup. Perfectly valid reason too. Because. I wrote something, and now I'm happy. And sleepy.

Hah, this journal stuff does kinda work out.

Well, g'night for now kittens =3