Zucked in the Ass, Hard

It is only after we lose everything that we are free to do anything.
(Fight Club)

I know this Chuck.

I know I am not my couch either, I don’t even have a couch rn or a house to put one in if I did.

Last one was $1300 and got peed on by a doggo right before he went over the rainbow bridge. RIP Hugo

I don’t live there anymore. I don’t live anywhere.

How many times have I fled in the night?

I tossed 20 years of old notebooks and diaries 3 or 4 moves ago.

I walked away from houses and people and things so often that I barely even notice anymore.

But this? Really? Come on.

I think 3 laptops ago, when I was still buying cheaper/refurbished units my computer shit the bed and all my writing and photos went with it.

I got some of them back.

Some.

Not all.

It has happened a couple times since and now all that stuff that used to be ‘my precious’ sits unlooked at in a folder on my desktop.

My farm life was so precarious I had to have tangible proof that I was there, and it was mine for a time.

Now?

IDGAF

Not a single fuck, flying or otherwise. Not for as many years as I was there.

I would rather forget to be honest. 2 days ago was the 10^th 11^th 12^th whatever anniversary of my car wreck, those photos still exist somewhere.

I guess now I don’t have to read about it once a year.

I got the ultimate Zuck fuck this morning. Got asked to provide ID to verify my account and 5 minutes later, my 12 year old account was gone.

It gave me the option to download the whole thing as a file, but I feel like that will just sit like the other old photo files that used to be SO important, in a corner gathering dust.

Everything just keeps getting taken away from me.

Losing the 100 000 emails full of love were bad enough but I did it, willingly, because I had to.

This is different. My hand was forced.

Okay I haven’t cried until now, but the tears are coming.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

A cool version of The Times They Are a Changin’ is playing on my Spotify right now.

Very funny.

All I can think right now is that whatever door is opening had better be to some glorious land of happiness and unconditional love and money. I need all of those things desperately.

I have yammered on and waxed poetic about feeling semi-permanent, and nothing drives that home like a 12 inch spike into my heart more than shit like this.

I am so tired. I am seriously ready to give up.

I have spilled my scared guts to a couple of my man friends over the last couple of days and they tell me “You’re strong, you’ll get through it, you’ve been through worse.”

I am not. I am not sure this time, and ya, I have been so what’s with the universe heaping on piles of more.

Tell me teacher what’s my lesson? Gary Jules

I felt marginally better yesterday.

I showered. Found a few of my ducks, they weren’t in a row but at least I could see them from where I was standing. I could also stand up, so that was kinda cool.

Went to bed early, got up early, got the notification to verify my ID on Facebook and thought “okay good, we are finally getting somewhere.” 5 minutes later, deleted forever.

In the immortal words of Bastille, “how am I gonna be an optimist about this?”

I don’t know.

I truly don’t.

I don’t think I can. Like I am really giving up on all of everything and I am too tired to stop myself.

Let it all go, I don’t care what stays.

I know someone who has spent the last 20 years building this pyramid of a life, stone by stone. If that were to collapse, it would be cataclysmic, or liberating, or both.

I cannot fathom that kind of life; I have never had it or anything close to it.

Me? I am a Bedouin camped nearby. All I have to do is fold up my tent and move.

But not this, not like this.

Facebook was my tent. My shelter. The one things about me that lasted through all of my incarnations.

I mean it can’t be helped now, and me realizing all of those old things I thought I couldn’t live without, here I am, kinda living and shit.

I know people on their 10^th profile now, their 20^th Instagram account etc.. etc… and although I live the rest of my life like that, I had that one thing.

And now I don’t.

And I know a lot of people won’t get it but when I lived through the horror of the farm, that was my lifeline. When I was alone in Milton, Facebook was my only link to the world.

I has been my security blanket and I am feeling EXACTLY like a toddler who lost their blankie.

So many blankies.

All gone.

No man, no work, no besties, no house, no plan, no life.

At some point this all might feel liberating but right now I just wanna cry and throw up and I want my January 2020 memories and life back.

patreon link, I think this blog is going the way of the dodo and for less than a $1 USD you can keep viewing on a safer site that doesn’t crash every two seconds.

https://www.patreon.com/sarahthegoodwitch