yesterday's last silly drops were swallowed by the drain with those last bits of foamy bath water. nausea kept me from working out the ole quads, i kept imagining a thin layer of vomit laid out across the beautiful hardwood floor. i packed the headphones and sweatless towel...ran home to the momma-cats for comforting.
i skipped the smokes. i couldn't go back if i wanted to. afraid of second hand smoke and the cats. afraid of letting down some hopeful hispanic looking for my bone marrow...i'll stay healthy if it kills me. slow suicides are boring...
settled in the couch for the screening of Age of Innocence. watched a man stay with a woman he didn't love, watched a woman move far far away from the man who loved her. and isn't it always that way? slippery little love. i'm tired of you...
i've been up since 3am. barking dog, racing thoughts, hugging soft pillows, i gave up. make oatmeal franny. swallow the acetominophen. have some green tea. turn off true love waits...
i don't know what's wrong. i don't. but it's gotten down to the bone now. and i'm too damned tired to dig it out.
apologies for the bad awful language yesterday.