Thursday

I keep telling myself I need to get back to reality.  Fantasy world is staying all weekend at Brent's house, doing absolutely nothing but eating, t.v.ing, and sleeping, ignoring my own home and chores.  It's got to stop, this is ridiculous. It would be different if we were building a life together, but he's determined to kill the only part of himself that is capable of loving me.  And I need to be loved. At least I think that's what I need - it's hard to say you need something you've never had before. But I'm pretty certain, based on the love of other people in my life, that love is what I need. I guess I probably ought to say this to him before the weekend. There aren't many "right" times to say this sort of thing. And I'm not certain that it's necessary to end things altogether.  I guess that's where it will go, though, because he's not going to stop trying to kill his heart, certainly not for my sake.

From yesterday - to lift my mood

Little things are getting to me today.
All piled up in heaps
like orange ladybugs
in the corners of my mind's windowsills.

I've been bitter and biting
and sullen and angry since lunch,
with no hope of reprieve
- until I read someone else's tale of woe.

Mine's not quite so bad in comparision,
and I began to reconstruct my philosophy.

When stressed, we can do one of two things:
we can laugh at the ignorance that surrounds us,
or we can weep for the lack of a banjo soundtrack.