Wither

People ask me all the time what I miss most because of my transplant, whether it be going shopping, concerts, hanging out at my friends apartments or taking random road trips to follow bands around. 

The thing I miss most in the world is myself.  

I'll always be who I've grown into, and I've learned to love that image.  However, I'm trapped in this 83lb body of disease and sickness, both physical as well as mental and I can't seem to unlock the cage or find the key.  I want to be myself again, to feel beautiful inside and out.  I can't look into mirrors anymore because I hate what I see.  I want to be happy enough to do what I love but I've been so sick for so long that I just can't do anything and knowing that depresses me, making motivation difficult - it's hard for me to even make my lover happy because it's like he's dating a different women and that kills me... and him.  I'm a prisoner of my own home, more so now then ever because it's hard to take an oxygen tank with me and as hard as I try to get off the oxygen, it's just not working. 

I can't count the number of people who have told me I'm the strongest person they have ever known and I think right now my motivation is for them to keep that thought.  I know I'm strong, but I can only get pushed so far - and I ask myself; how much longer can I go?

I just turned 20 and I feel like I'm 90.  How the hell does this happen?

It's Really Happening!

Damn, Boston is loud.  I'm in a fucking hotel and can hear the party-goers drunken shouts outside.  Why am I not with them?  Because I'm in isolation.

(Even though I cheated and went to the gym).

While in this city, I've been writing a book.  A biography, you might say.  Or, a bunch of random fucked up memories, stories, experiences, pictures, poetry, drawings, dreams, screams.  In general, is it about me and my life, written in the only way I know how - art.

I'm really not egotistical.  But, this book is already fucking awesome.

Wednesday Knowledge.

Steak and potato TV dinner's taste like chinese food.

Sexy Reaper

The She Reaper was a request ;)

What's next?  Well, in my Ambien trance, it turns out to be Princess Peach.  Just Princess Peach, you ask?  No.  Of course not!
Princess Peach sexed up and ready to take on / in some... plant monsters!  Oh no Peach!
But I assure you, she wants it - that dirty girl.

Anyway, I feel like I should talk about my situation.  You see, I had to leave college and go get a bone marrow transplant done.  I changed my mind.  I don't want to talk about it - it's all I fucking talk about these days.

I hate Boston.  My soul was left in Vermont before I left.  At the same time, I like it here.  Not in Boston, but here, right now.

I had an epiphany that fish can fly.  I was sitting in front of a tank for hours, and they can go every which way.  We're stuck to fucking ground.  Gravity and density can suck a plant monster.

I also had a dream that I drove a motorcycle across a field of pizza... it was very, very rough and I should not have lived through that experience.

Curious Ariel.

Meet Ariel, a devious young mermaid.  Mermaid?  Well, she's not sure.  She thought she should feel her nipple and smiling from the feeling that gave her - she snuck a hand down her fin.  Impossible?  Nope.  Anything is possible.

I brought her to her sexual light last night - August the 8th 2010.

I went shopping for my dorm supplies today.  I think it was an success.  Definitely thought I was going to have to spend far over $300 but it came out less then 2.  Stoked?  Indeed.  Just have to get a snail and my room with my best friend (soulmate) will be set.

Two more weeks until staight up fuckin' bliss.

I don't really know what I'm doing by writing this.

All that I do know, is that I love to write.  Where will that take me?  Probably no where.  Does that bother me?  Yes, it very much so does.

My name is Mariah, leave it at that.  My middle name is Fawn.  My dad likes to hunt.  My brother's name was going to be Forrest.  Why does this matter?  It doesn't, but is there a point to a blog?

I think I came here on this fine evening because writing brings me happiness.  Something that I have been lacking for far, far too long.  The love of my life is on the other side of world.  I need him more then I can ever even imagine.  I'm dying.  No, I don't have cancer, aids, or whatever.  I don't know what I have.  I don't know what's killing me.  And Doctors?  They don't know either.

My ambien is the only pill I will take, besides the blood thinner pills that keep me alive.  But back to the ambien... just brings me to a lose of words.  It's taken me places that have cured me, made me live.  Every night begins a new adventure that I just hope I will remember.