these pigs are after me

Dear Void,

There is a small black hole staring at me. Quite a contrast, really, from the sunny yellow canvas I've painstakingly given life to, but it's there nonetheless and I can't exactly ignore it. It's in my peripheral vision at all times while I write this. I suppose I could move my easel, but actually doing something about your problems is for losers.

...I know that sounded like a metaphor, but I wrote it literally. A painting in progress is sitting in front of me and the dark spot in the corner of it keeps sneering at me. Good metaphor though, all things considered.

Rant #1.
Seriously though.
There's something broken in my head. I've got some weird kind of hope in the back seat of my heart, and I've got a few ideas where it came from-- old friends I've started talking to again, let's just leave it at that-- but it comes and goes, as all good things do. Earlier Aston and I were making love (really truly making love, the tender kissing and the brushing back of the hair and soft sighs type), and while it was beautiful I was a little more caught up in the storm inside me rather than him moving in and out of me. I couldn't stop singing Flagpole Sitta in my head, for some reason all the theories about evolution were running through my brain and I was trying not to cry and not to burst out laughing my ass off at the same time, and then I was thinking about quantum physics and string theory and theoretical quantum mechanics which I know is the same thing as theoretical quantum physics and I already stated that but I really like both phrases so damn it, I'm going to use both, but I couldn't stop thinking about how there's an 18% chance we're all living in a computer simulation and that it's incredibly probable that we're all just aura beings projecting ourselves into this reality except we got so caught up with our physical bodies that we forgot that we're actually just made up of light and how fucking insane is it that two people find each other at all?
...my coping mechanism to all this is to turn my music up louder.
gravity don't mean too much to me...
and I realized that if I ever had to explain myself to an alien sentient being who asked "Who are you?", I would just direct them to the above rant because that would be as fucking good as I could get to explaining how my goddamn brain works.

Rant #2.
I don't know why I keep obsessing over the things I claim not to care about.
I'm convinced I'm revoltingly fat.
I know I'm not, but jesus frakking christ it feels and looks like it. I'm thinking about giving up food the way I gave up cocaine-- cold turkey.
...that's not true, I didn't give up completely cold turkey, but it was pretty damn close, it was more like a "Here's the last line I'll ever do in this room by myself and the next fourteen days are dedicated to shaking and vomiting and getting my shit together because nobody will bother me in here" situation. Is that cold turkey if you had your last fix?
Woah. Not the point. Though my last fix for food would be tortellini with an alfredo sauce, absolutely.
Ahem.
Look, I know Muslim womyn aren't even allowed to drive and womyn in Ethiopia have their genitals mutilated with rusty razors and there are people starving and dying all over the world and in some room there's a teenage kid tying a noose in his closet because he never met me and didn't realize that there's someone to talk to, I know a bazillion and four people have it a bazillion and five times worse than I do, but that doesn't change the fact that every time I look in the mirror I want to vomit because the creature I see is so horrifyingly disgusting that I want to rip my face off and feed it to the wolves.
Also, I am out of cigarettes and out of money. Fuck.
Ahem.
I don't know what to do. I shaved my fucking head to try to get over this idiotic obsession, and yeah it helped for about three weeks, but now I've done that and the intoxicating liberation has worn off and I don't know what to do next. Mutilate my face? Gouge my eyes out? Neck tattoos? Fuck.
I want to be free of feeling that I am a repulsive creature. I don't want to care about being beautiful or attractive or whatever, I want to not give a fuck about that, but I cannot get free of it for some reason and I don't know why.
Maybe the answer really is to go live in the woods for a couple years. No human contact, find my own food, fuck civilization. I could really get down with that.
Speaking of living situations...

Rant #3.
I'm torn about Vermont. I want to go, at the same time I don't. I don't even know where to begin. I think I just need time to figure it out. Two weeks ago I was so set on going, but now the graphic novel thing has taken off and I'm going to be registering for classes soon and fuck. I don't know. That pull that I had two weeks ago just isn't there, but does that mean that I don't want to go? I'm just not motivated to go.
Maybe I just need to sit on my own and seriously think it over for a while. It's not like it's a lifechanging decision, but it has the potential to be and I don't want to fuck things up irreparably in my life... well, more than I usually do, I mean.
... you get it.
Now, go to this link and do this thing that made me cry a lot. Arcade Fire is good now and then.

Love, Arden.