Walking Barefoot in the Park.
Where to write this - how to fucking write this. From speculation I can tell whichever way I get out my feelings, there will still be a bunch of them left inside... some will never even be able to come out. Yesterday, my mother took Ava and Maddy to the beach; it helped her to get out, try for the most part to get back into her ordinary routine. I know it has to be hard for her alone; but James and I are with her through everything; she has to realize that crying alone, will not get you anywhere... I want her to know; without having to tell her - that no matter what is going on. I'm there. Just as she's been there for me, for the past near-gone twenty-eight years of my life. I remember being seventeen, an entire ten years ago... I'd have given anything to end my life, yet she was there; pushing me to get through... hell, she cried every time I did, which made me cry even more. Yeah, it makes sense when you think about it. I just feel privileged to grab her, shake her and yell about how much she means to me, how much I aspire to be like her. My mother. My best friend. The woman responsible for delivering my fat white ass, all those years back, but somehow my inner-self stops me from doing that. I love her; if only she could read this.
I've been too lucky in my lifetime to have multiple instances of "love", whether they've worked out or not, some people never get to experience the facade; even though love can sting harder and more rapidly than a wasp... it can also fill you will a hundred and one thoughts about why to wake up in the morning, if I hadn't had Maddox last year; his laughs and smiles being an emotional support post for me, there'd have most definitely been no 'Cradle of Life'. That - - or Jan and Lloyd hobbling around with one leg between them. Insert a teensy smirk, right about now. Ryan, just amazes me; he genuinely cares... about what's going on. Even if the symptoms are as small as a headache, which have been occurring so regularly; I could set my fucking alarm clock off've it, he's been there to make me smile; even been there to let me say something witty back, which in turn would make him smile. I love it when he smiles, genuinely. The sadistic crazy-bitch leaps out of my body for a momentary lapse, and is replaced with a flirtatious wink, no thought in the slight about knives - and last of all... A GIGGLE. T-hah. Indeed, Angelina goes "Sweet fuckin' Valley". "Beware, there's a bomb on the bus!" Hmm, why in God's name did I just yell that? Ava and Maddy both just turned and gave me the most fucking adorable "..." looks. "Yo' momma is crazy"; kicking the street vibe to the side. Three years ago - Who'da "thunk" I'd be in a Hollywood living room, with two kids, a Soap Opera-orientated mother; a Bull-dog and a kitten. Certainly not me. I wonder if running out into the street, licking the ground and bawling "Hallelujah!" would be looked upon as something out of the ordinary? Only one way to find out. Eh, later. I'll con Jamie into doing it with me, and no not that "it", dirty minded cretins.
I want to get back into the world, before I begin filming again. Having nothing to do, just sitting around waiting for this average mediocre life to follow in the course of it's day to day, repetitive events. How those who gave up their dreams in order to make money for something they hate doing - exist, fuck knows. A vast part of my life, I commit to living for the now... only plan small events; you want to pack up everything to live in a trailer? Fine. Want to give up your job to work towards something you've sought after. Always.. and I mean this with the deepest maturity; always shoot for it. Thus, bringing on feelings of unused potential; my mind and body both strongly agreed to call UNCR Washington - get myself back out there, learn more about humanity. I have two flights booked tomorrow evening for Tanzania; moving on to Venezuela for a couple of days after. Ry', I tried to call you last night a dozen times to ask you - but I'm assuming I'll have to settle for second par. Come with me. If only for a week. Sounds like I'm fucking proposing to you - I could get down on one knee for it. Utterly understandable if you can't; having Ava and all... I suppose it's just an experience I'd like you to have. Adding another sense of self-worth.
The last time I was there, visiting those poor kids... there was one little girl that stood out to me; she had this red piece of worn material as clothing and not one possession. She'd seen her entire family murdered at the hands of warlords, you're there... you know there's not a thing you can do to change the past - but by speaking to them, you just get an imperturbable adrenaline rush; perhaps you could change their future by just being there. "Why is my life so difficult?!". Says the twenty year old, suburban American girl in need of a new coat... about to slit her wrists when she finds out, IT'S NOT HER SIZE. Oh God, throw a fucking parade, three-thousand trombones, twenty violins and a tuba! The refugee situation enters everything into a whole other perspective. So, don the cowboy boots, pick up a dirty ol'cowboy hat and head for the road, Jolie.
Britt; don't worry, sweetpea. We're all here for you. You and the little chicken... name the kid 'Eggbert' and I'll love you for fucking ever.
For now, Dear journal; I bid you adieu... is that how you spell it? - Fuck it. 'Buh bye'.
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