The moment

I begin to feel as though I have human relationships figured out, that I can just be, without hindrance, it all just kind of blows up in my face, and I'm stuck here again, in second place.
... Bollocks.

"Get me to the church on tiiiiiiiime"

All within the past ... I'd say two months, I've found out a multitude of friends, current and past, are all getting married.
Pheromones, anyone?
That or they're having children all at once, and I find myself in a time where no, I wouldn't be able to support a child currently, but the idea that I wouldn't be able to have one in the future lays heavily on my shoulders. Pictured here is probably one of my best friends in the world, Eric. He's marrying a wonderful girl and I couldn't be happier for the two of them.
I've been cutting ties with people close to me, not really on purpose, but because I feel like I know where this is going, and what can happen if I don't pull up from this downward spiral.
My surgery date is set and will hopefully alleviate some of this funk I've been in.

Passing notion, and I promise, it is only a fleeting recollection:
On the first day of our senior English class, the teacher alluded to a weird statistic: suicides happen more frequently in the spring than they do on holidays. When we asked why, he said that spring always means the promise of change, and that the lack thereof, is heartbreaking.

Jumping on the bandwagon, I suppose.

Let me make this very clear.
I am PRO-Gay Marriage. I am PRO-Equal Rights. They're/I'm not trying to marry you. Get over it.

No, I'm not going to shove my beliefs down your throat, honestly. And don't worry, you're safe from me trying to sit you down to watch "Brokeback Mountain" or "Sex and the City".
I don't approve of stupidity or ignorance, but I do approve of people's right to express their opinions, even if I don't agree with them. This little Satan-loving liberal does believe that you should be able to express yourself no matter what. Miss California in all of her, let's be generous and say "WISDOM", decided to answer as she saw fit. For a BEAUTY pageant. Hardly the platform for morally upstanding citizens, wouldn't you say? And speaking of platforms, I would like her to step down off of her high horse and stop comparing her entrance into a contest to her grandfather fighting the Battle of the Bulge with General Patton. Your grandfather serving his country and you prancing around in a crocheted white bikini are not the same sacrifices.
If I can say anything, let it be to the press: Please stop fueling her fire. She thinks this publicity is somehow a punishment, and she's just being egged on. And Donald Trump, king of all combovers (or comb FORWARDS I suppose), isn't helping.
Care to disagree? Fine. Tell me that Carie whatsherface is the new prophet, and I'll show you a broad in a white bikini.
Cheers,
c.i.

I almost love this town when I'm by your side

At twenty-two, I didn't expect to have deal with the problems of my own fertility, or lack thereof at this point. I've got bum parts and no instructions, ha. Also, let it be noted that going and getting blitzed out of your mind is no way to deal with these issues (as I did last night, oi vey), but I got overwhelmed being surrounded by children, babies, and pregnant women. They all seemed to flock to one spot (no, not the bar), and I couldn't escape my emo self.
I did this drawing about three years ago from a borrowed anatomy book. A lot of my earlier work has been based off of anatomy because of my family's long genetic history of having bum parts (be it the heart, ovaries, skeletal structure, etc.), and their various ways of dealing with them.
I've kind of tried going forth with my life and trying to function, but it kind of sucks when it feels like there's a tiny gremlin in your pelvis trying to remove your ovaries with a broken spork.
More embarrassing details to come, and hopefully some more art.
Cheers,
c.i.