I hate this band, and I want it to die

Today I am feeling BAD. No, not the MJ way. Like crying for 30 minutes at a time.

I've been putting off blog entries because I've been too busy with halfhearted attempts at weaving lyrics to write something meaningful for you. This evening I don't have anything productive to say, but it's long overdue, and procrastination sucks, so if you're sensitive and don't want to read of my silly woes, then stop now. Come back when I post something happier. Today I'm going to be real.

I am lonely. I am hungry but too tired to prepare anything for myself and way too tired to drive half an hour to get any takeaway that I would deem edible. I miss my sister. I want a dog. I don't want to make meals for my grandma anymore. I don't want to care for two cats when only one is mine. Post-fraud, I am waiting for a new ATM card, and my credit card bill is astronomical because the famous raw guru David Wolfe is being a big jerk and trying to screw me out of hundreds of dollars for a "30-day risk-free" program that I canceled within 48 hours of purchasing, having read some info on the program forum that made me seriously doubt his integrity, and over a week before he decided to ship it out anyway. I'd recently made some big purchases, so, for the first time in a very long time, I am having to pinch pennies--and I'd have been happy to do it for something beneficial but certainly not for the best scam ever, not because this douchebag can't make money in an honorable way. This weekend I bought a pair of sunglasses and returned them the same day only to buy another pair the next day that I am already unhappy with and will probably return. I blame my face. 'Tis the season for leggings and my only pair has a big hole. I hate clothes. I'd rather be naked. I need a new place to live. My ex-beloveds won't release me fully. My jing is depleted. I need new friends. Judging from the external stagnation, I can only conclude that I am an ugly, crazy, talentless piece of poo. I don't want to complete our EP. I hate our video for "Portable." I want to move to Iceland.

I was thinking I would drive to the desert tonight by myself to sit and cry and wait and see how long it would take for Luke and Mom to notice I wasn't around. Or go on a road trip and not tell anyone where I went. I want to disappear.

And I really want to quit music. I'm not canceling any scheduled engagements. In fact, I'm happy to play them. We have some new songs, and they're great. We've never played the Echo before, and we've never performed on a boat. But this is my truth today.

I have to water my garden daily.
I am tired of it.
If I were a garden, I'd be dried up and brown.
No one is watering me.

It sounds very pathetic, I know, but one can only flourish so long without love. I feel quite inadequate and bored at a core level. Yeah, self-love, blah blah blah. There are people with far less self-love than I have who are getting banged RIGHT NOW--and not just getting banged but being made love to and getting married and having babies.

I don't know what internal blocks of mine are staving off success in what should be vital areas of my life, and I don't know how to fix them. I have read the books and seen the healers. I have worked on my shet. I am so lost. And even if my sister were here, she probably couldn't fix it anyway.