How Fitting: Books and Fairies and Things Happening

It's been a weird week. So much has gone on and wow I didn't realize until I tried to write it all down and it became a scramble. I've been editing the novel I told you about a couple weeks ago and I find that funny because I've been comparing it to American Horror Story: Freak Show (without Evan Peters, freaks, a killer clown, and basically everything exempt for it being a circus in the 50s). No matter what I do, it can't be perfect and that is why I know I can't go into any publishing steps because that isn't what I want. But now that I say that, I don't even know what I want out of this book. It's just kind of something that is there and pretty and I like it. I guess I'm happy with it in a way. There are parts I feel like I'm somewhat of an OK fiction writer and I am proud (I could even say) of the introduction.
"My dad and I are moving again. A whole new town with new people who I probably won't be talking to and more opportunities for my dad to fuck everything up for us until we ditch this place and move again. I realize how harsh I sound when I say this but it's not as though my father has made things easy since the passing of my mother. Ah that faithful day that will continue to bring chills up my spine and cause me to dry heave no matter where I am. I remember it all too clearly.

Irene Nadler was not a mother to me- more of a ghost than anything. She would come home wrecked every night in the early hours of the morning and you could feel the drugs leaking off her. She'd act as though she was in a whole different world and stumble around our quaint house screeching profanities at the top of her lungs- triggering multiple complaints from our neighbors about the crazy lady next door. Sometimes she wouldn't even go out, she'd sit on the living room couch with a syringe in her hand and just go at it. Until one day, things were different. I don't know what exactly happened or why. Maybe she'd had a bad day or didn't notice how much she was taking because before I knew it, she was on the ground clutching her throat. I was only eight. I didn't know what was going on. I couldn't stop it. Instead of trying to help, I just sat there on one of the stools in the living room and watched in horror. I should've screamed or run to find someone but I was paralyzed and before I knew it, she was no longer heaving and lay motionless on the carpet. I don't remember much about what Irene looked like except for the blue nails and lips that will never leave my mind. When my dad is intoxicated (which is most of the time now), he'll look at me and weep about how much I resemble her though."

I could go into so many more things that have been going on but they make me sad to think about and though I did write about them, I think these thoughts and moments are rather personal and should be kept private. I did have a really banging fairy princess birthday party though and took some awesome shots with Vivi.