I don’t think anyone will ever read this, nor will anyone care. I’m only doing this because I need a place to get it all out, some place where I can kid myself that someone out there is concerned or maybe understands. Writing in a paper journal has its sad moments. It’s harder to do away with. It is evidence if it is found.

This is just my place to go because I have nowhere else.

Sooner or later I will make the About Me page. Here are some bits and pieces of me…

I am 38 years old. I live with my parents. I don’t have a job. I own a business, but it doesn’t do well. I have chronic migraines and for several months had almost non-stop pain from them, but no one cared. I now take three different types of medicine to help prevent them, and a fourth to help knock them out when that doesn’t work, and will probably need my dosage increased on one, and I still have migraines every day. And no one cares and I wish one person in my family would appreciate the fact that I managed to hold down a job for two years until the pain got so the only way to make it stop was to keep moving and I felt like I was going insane. I wish my family would understand that being in pain is not some kind of weakness or something to be ashamed of and I think I do a very good job of not showing it. I wish that someone would understand that just because I don’t lie around crying and holding my head and whining, doesn’t mean I’m not hurting.

I have body dismorphic disorder. For some people they’re only concerned with one defect, for me, the defect starts at my scalp and goes to the soles of my feet. It also goes inside me. All the way through. I don’t know what I’ll see when I look in the mirror. To make it worse I gained a lot of weight, then I lost a lot, and gained 25 pounds back. So I’m not just ugly, I’m fat too.

Apparently I also have a rotten personality, am cynical, don’t trust anyone, am unpleasant, through in a lot of nasty adjectives and that would describe me. It seems all I do is sit around and criticize everything and everyone. And all this time I thought I was a pretty nice person.

Funny to find out you’re as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside.

No big surprise I am majorly depressed. I try to hide that too. Depression is just another thing to be ashamed of. I have no reason to be depressed. AFter all, I live with my parents, right, and don’t have to work a full time job.

But I’m 38 years old and live with my parents and have to tell them where I’m going and who I’m going with. I can’t just get in my car and go for a ride. I have to have a reason.

And even though I’m the youngest in the family you can bet I’m to blame for everyone else’s bad habits and problems. Just stay tuned and I’ll explain it all.

If you’re wondering why you should keep reading, my number one reason is that you’ll feel better about yourself knowing you haven’t let your life get as messed up as I have. You at least have a life.

I’ve always been afraid of zombies. I may not be dead, but I’m a zombie.