What exactly is the cure, in the male mind, for PTSD? (Let's delve into the rabbit hole and go far enough to even say "RTS", though the words, even the acronym, make me slightly nauseous.) Waking up to what is essentially a controlled, simulated attack? It doesn't matter that it wasn't meant in that manner. It was still enough to begin yet another flashback, another panic attack, another string of ruined days filled with nothing but memories. Were you surprised that I hid when you pulled out that fucking piece of latex and asked, as if it were just a simple courtesy, if I indeed "wanted to"? Were you surprised when I didn't jump on the chance? Were you surprised I just shook my head, couldn't look at you, couldn't let you see me? Thank you for a day of chainsmoking and shots of old vodka. I'm so angry and upset I can't see straight. I want to disappear.

Get to go home Saturday! Get to celebrate and be with people who actually want me around. Todays Tarot card; The Judgement. It's been the "Card of the Day" since Saturday. Even after repeated shuffling. [Meaning? Accepting past mistakes/actions. Release. Forgiveness. Renewal. Salvation. New beginning. Hope.] It means many things. Too many being that it appeared out of seemingly nowhere on the 13th and has stuck around ever since. I'm trying my hand at forgiveness, and we'll see how that goes. ....The house reeks of burning rubber, and it's making me nauseous. "Share with me all of your pain, I won't share your love, I need all your love." I seriously love you, Portugal the Man.

It's beautifully hot outside today. I don't care that things are getting progressively worse, or that I've yet to talk to anyone. Or even that I only have 2 cigarettes left until tomorrow night. I'm in a pleasant mood. I will be socializing this weekend. Somehow!

Everything is Dr. Dog, David Bazan, Portugal The Man, Wilco. Sexual assault jokes aren't funny, even if I write a million of them, it doesn't get better, or desensitize me more. It just pisses me off and makes everyone want to walk away from me, and whatever I stand for. Makes me want to blow his brains out, or mine. Which ever is more convenient. Work blows. I hate children, so why the fuck am I watching one? I'm broke. I have a carton of cigarettes and some dirty jeans to my name. And I want to leave. Migraines still hitting hard, almost daily. No more vicodin. No more friends. I cannot be social. Am considering a vow of silence, no one would notice, I'm sure. Also a vow of celibacy. Men be damned, your interest in me is minimal and shallow anyway. I'm pretty sure, were there liquor in my vicinity, or money in my pocket, I'd develop a drinking problem based solely on boredom and depression. Still rebuilding, not working out too well. Fuck.

Rebuilding postponed, temporarily, I guess. I've got vengence on the mind. I'm amazed at the things I can come up with in my sick mind. Even when I'm trying to hard to make myself forgive and forget. Even when I listen to this religious fucking music, these things that tell me about an all powerful being who loves and forgives everyone, all I can think about is how if this sin is forgivable, god is unjust and wrong, and if he doesn't get the hell he deserves I'll make it for him myself. But, alas, the chance is gone. There are paties to attend, massive consumption of tequila to follow, music just begging to be danced to. And that, at least, can be arranged. Fun is allowed. Very much so. Fun is the only floatation device I can find. Aside, maybe, from abstract faith, and the hollowed out hope that there's nowhere to go but up. But know this, if I ever see that motherfucker on the street, I swear I'll rip him to pieces.

bloody hell hell hell hell hell. rebuilding what some bastard broke down isn't easy or fun, but ultimately worth it, i s'pose. my head hurts alot more lately. stress migraines are worse than any others. portugal the mans new album is saving me from giving up on this reconstructing shit. it's amazing, and highly suggested. i need to breathe deeply and lose myself in five cups of tea and a puff of smoke. life isn't good right now, but i promise myself it will be soon. deargoddeargoddeargoddeargod

The Letter A Are you available?: Technically. What is your age?: 18 on May the 11th. What annoys you?: Alot. The Letter B Do you live in a big house?: Not at all. When is your birthday?: May 11th. Who is your best friend?: My doe.. The Letter C What's your favorite candy?: Reese's or Snickers. Who's your crush?: No one. When was the last time you cried?: A few days ago. Bad migraine. The Letter D Do you daydream?: Excessively. What's your favorite kind of dog?: Great Danes, or BamBam my brother's pit/lab mix. What day of the week is it?: Wednesday. The Letter E How do you like your eggs?: Boiled. Have you ever been in the emergency room?: Yessir. What's the easiest thing ever to do?: Vanish. The Letter F Have you ever flown in a plane?: Yessir. Do you use fly swatters?: Nope. Have you ever used a foghorn?: No. The Letter G Do you chew gum?: Excessively. It helps me cut down on the smokes. Are you a giver or a taker?: "I give and I give and, oh god, I Give. I give until my jaws ache, do you think that's bad?" (SEE; The Super Milk Chan Show] Do you like gummy candies?: I generally don't consume food with gelatin. The Letter H How are you?: Bitter. Sickly. Bored. What color is your hair?: Brown with reddish undertones. The Letter I What's your favorite ice cream?: Chocolate. Have you ever ice skated?: Yes, and I fell on my ass almost immediately. Do you play an instrument?: Guitar, bass guitar, clarinet, trombone, piano. I'm pretty bad with all of them, though. The Letter J What's your favorite jelly bean brand?: Starburst. Do you wear jewelry?: I've got two necklaces and a Pokemon watch that I wear. The Letter K Who do you want to kill?: My sick bastard of a father. Do you want kids?: Maybe one, or two, if one was adopted. Where did you go for kindergarten?: Featherstone Elementary. The Letter L Are you laid back?: Absolutely. Do you lie?: I'm a compulsive liar. The Letter M Whats your favorite movie?: Manic or Alice in Wonderland. Do you still watch Disney movies?: See above. Do you like mangoes?: Absolutely. Nothing cures a bad day like a mango smoothie. The Letter N Do you have a nickname?: Evan, Doe, Dahl, Evo, E-Van, Gay Zebra, Ronsalad, Ronsalsa. What is your real name?: It is a dreadful name that I refuse to utter. Whats your favorite number?: 8 or 656 Do you prefer night over day?: Usually I'm asleep through most of the day. The Letter O What's your one wish?: At the moment? Money, or love I s'pose, though I could travel to Seattle with money, and love won't get me anywhere. Are you an only child?: Not remotely. The Letter P What one fear are you most paranoid about?: Anytime I see a beetle I have a panic attack. I guess losing my friends scares me too. What are your pet peeves?: Motherfuckers that toy with my head and then promise to go back to a normal friendship only to ignore my existence. Fuckingasshole. What's a personality trait you look for in people?: Lack of control over oneself. Lack of serious plans, but excessive amounts of ambition. The Letter Q What's your favorite quote?: "Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government and business." - Tom Robbins. Are you quick to judge people?: Not at all. The Letter R Do you think you're always right?: No sir. Are you one to cry?: Never in public. The Letter S Do you prefer sun or rain?: Warm rain. Do you like snow?: Sometimes. What's your favorite season?: [I like to] Spring [forward] [after I] Fall [back] The Letter T What time is it?: 212pm. What time did you wake up?: 6, 9, 12. When was the last time you slept in a tent?: Too long ago. The Letter U Are you wearing underwear?: Always. Underwear or boxers?: Boy shorts? The Letter V What's the worst veggie?: CABBAGE. What an atrocity. Where do you want to go on vacation?: Seattle. Portland. Santa Fe. Talkeetna, Alaska. Vulcan, Alberta. The Letter W What's your worst habit?: Compulsive chewing. And smoking, I guess. Where do you live?: Northern Carolina, at the moment, What's your worst fear?: I have an extensive list of my worst fears. For now we'll say dying, dying alone, losing friends, and beetles. The Letter X Have you ever had an x-ray?: I think so. Have you seen the x-games?: ...On TV. Do you own a xylophone?: Not anymore. The Letter Y Do you like the color yellow?: Only in association with the Exploding Hearts

My lovely friends want to rent a house together. Two separate groups. I'm forced to choose between the fairly flaky partier or the two for one couple special. The girl who'll have random guys spending the night and parties every weekend, or the quiet, future-minded girl + stoner boyfriend package deal. There's also the probability of "talks" about his sexual skills (or lack thereof). Nope, not interested. I don't care to know about your adventures with condoms containing benzocaine. There is a reason I remain sexually inactive it's part revulsion, part lack of interest. You know my secrets, kid, put two and fucking two together. Note my disinterest. Christ. The possible eviction or the eternal third wheel. It's alot tougher than you may think. Oh, yeah. I got "dumped." Maybe my return to cynicism was influenced by that? Actually, I don't give a fuck about that. Guys come and go, my interest in that particular one was limited. Life goes on and on and on. Jeff Tweedy's cover of Simple Twist of Fate is lovely. Godfuck. I want to get blazed.

I have not updated this deal in ages. My brain is bordering a full scale war on lights. My eyes have become so sensitive in the past few weeks. I moved to northern carolina, which is awful. My stepfather brought home a rooster.. It attacked me and now I'm terrified to walk into my own front yard. My friendship with cigarettes has become an obsessive, onesided relationship (I call every night, and they just stumble over and sit silently.). I am listening to almost nonstop Wilco (This isn't a particularly bad thing.). I am feeling bad for myself alot, but that's okay. I am taking some pills to sedate me into happiness (A nice combination of Tylenol 4 and sleeping pills.). And, uh. I spend way too much time on postsecret. ...I'm not sure what to say, really. Not many goings on around here.

Work is pretty damn annoying. Small, screaming children everywhere. Rolling around on their "Heelys" (Uggghhh. Is there any shoe worse than those things?) and stealing things (Seriously, what kind of 7 year old steals stuff?). Underaged kids trying to buy cigars (I can't sell Phillies Blunts to 14 year olds. Sorry, I like making money, and I'm not risking my money for you.). Rude customers, rude managers. Not good at all. Warped tour (7/26) was amazing, and, yes, I know I am incredibly late. I just felt like glowing over my finally seeing Circa Survive [And seeing the Matches again, and talking small small talk with Shawn Harris.]. And. Hm. Portugal The Man in 5 days. Incredibly good times shall reign free. I haven't been listening to anything but Wilco for the last two and a half weeks. It's nice, because the gritty voice and amazing lyrics have been calming me down alot. I need to smoke a cigarette and search for my lost iPod sync cord.