maybe my face will freeze that way

sometimes i'm truly afraid that my face will "freeze that way." if you know me, you know the way i mean. mom used to use this one on me a lot, attempting to cheer me up. in some ways i think it would be easier if my face only looked one way: fucking pissed, or even just really sad or grim. then maybe nobody would talk to me and in theory i would get what i want (altho i practise, i would be miserable and miss some of you [probably most of you who are reading] desperately). anyway, i do notice a lot that my face is in pissed mode and that a lot of old ladies have frown lines and i feel that maybe someday i will too have these strange melancholy lines carved deep into my face. a friend said that i had too good a sense of humour for this to happen. perhaps she's right-- damn. in many ways it would be cool to be able to just point to my permafrown when somebody asks me how i'm doing and say "how does it LOOK like i'm doing?!"

& lately i've been using sleep as coping mechanism for having to endure being awake. first i write (sur le papier, ne pas ici)-- vomit as many words as possible. then often i attempt reading (currently canadian vegetarian horror drama), but get so distracted by my own life with my head so far up my own ass. often this is when i realize i've been staring at the wall for 15 minutes and am breathing really heavily and can no longer do anything requiring any concentration-- even watching a movie. so i have two options- i can do one or more of the following: smoke a bowl, drink some whisky, brew myself some peppermint tea, scream and rant and try to find someone to spill to-- usually my brother-- or i could take some rescue remedy and fall asleep. this is the popular method that i use even within minutes of waking up somedays. even on my days off, okay especially then. sometimes i don't make it out of the house because i don't want to bother facing anyone. don't fret, tho, it's not like desperate times or anything-- sometimes i just don't feel like dealing. period. and so i lay on my couch staring at the walls for hours, getting up and then going back to sleep. playing :wumpscut:, danko jones, dinosaur jr, him, tool, whatever works as a distraction/pacifier/mood justifier/inspirationforwriting/writhing. whatever. and it's cool and i even enjoy it-- probably 80% of the time. i sometimes miss the comfort in being sad, or blah, or without. until i come to and realize that i'm still me and i don't want to go outside because I HATE IT. and not because it's winter, but because it's outside, and not as comfortable as slippers, sweaters, soymilk and, well, metal.