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Wednesday, Jan. 12, 2005 / 9:03 p.m. ~In Which I Compare My Emotional Maturity to the Inner Workings of My Toilet~ My mother used to tell me that once I turned 18 I'd basically no longer have any acne. Too bad she died when I was 17, or I could enjoy razzing her to this day: "Oh YEAH?! Well what is THIS? And THIS? HUH? Do you KNOW how old I am? 18? Eight-EEN? HAH!" The dreaded peeee emmmmm esssss is taking over, and I'm noting all the changes. Today was confusion, and yesterday was salt cravings, well, today was salt cravings, salt, meat, protein, fat, fat, salt, meat, salt, fat. I am appropriately bloated. The emotional garbage has yet to begin, but I'm thinking I'll try some Valerian root this time around, and/or Kava. They both make me sleepy, but sleepy could easily be better than fly-off-the-handle/lose-friends-and-lovers crazy. I just want some understanding, that's all. It's horrible to think of the people who've been so frightened by me they've run with tails between their legs. It's just me, ya know? I'm still here. And, along those lines, I feel it necessary to explain that the strength of my convictions is based upon pure and simple self-preservation. We know this, right? I say what I say, I write it too, in the hopes of meaning it, dammit, and yet... we know how I really feel, inside, yeah? Still the same. Those feelings do not simply 'go away'. No, no, no, but a certain jealousy rears its ugly head, and a lot of uncertainty, and insecurity for good measure, and yes, it's true, I am not all cocksure arrogance and superiority, not but a tenth of the time, if that. The rest is longing and fear and need. Just like everyone else. I don't turn it all off like a faucet, this is not possible. My faucet drips, it needs more than simply new washers, it needs to be replaced. No shut off valve under the sink either. Maybe it's like the silly floater arm in my toilet tank - I keep it propped up with a wad of paper, and now it's a page from the Home Bistro catalog, thank you, but it's damned hard to get that wad positioned 'just so', so no more running or dripping is heard. Tricky, that. Maybe only two flushes per day, which is good, and it's just me, so no, it's not GROSS, and this is better than a toilet that can be flushed readily, easily, it conserves water, and this cannot be bad. But I'm like that floater arm, all propped up by my supposed strength of conviction, my "I'm all I've got, and screw all you people who abandoned me, and the men I've loved who left me, and those who've sought to shut me out and succeeded, who needs ya? Not me, damned straight, Skippy!", but really, that wad of paper is slipping a bit, and my real feelings, that real running, that constant drip, all that pent up emotion, it's right there, exactly everything I try to tell myself I no longer feel. I lie. But wait, I abhor dishonesty, none of it is lies, it's delusion, self delusion, and if anyone else falls for it, you've got caught up in it, you're in the crossfire, step to the side, please. I miss him something terrible. I wish we could sleep together every night, and I wish we could tell each other about our days, and I wish I could cook us dinner, and we could play with the cats, and drink hot cocoa, or tea, watch Sci-Fi, or I could convince him that black and white movies are really pretty good, put on "The Thin Man" or something. Or maybe we could just have a chat online, and use silly emoticons, do the {{{{hugs}}}} thing. But I digress. See, I'm strong, it's hard to admit all that. And no, it's not the PMS, now is the early early stage, the cravings, the consequent bloat, water retention from all the salt, the breakout, the big huge pimple on my jaw (MOM, YOU LIED!!!), and the odd confusion, the exhaustion, the disorientation, however slight. Soon come the cramps, the bleeding, but by then I'll be fine. That part is easier. Herbs this time, promise. Thunderstorms predicted for tomorrow. What will I do if my sun roof actually caves inward? Will it? It feels awfully 'spongy' on the inside... And, if you save someone, aren't you responsible for that person, forever? He saved me, he rescued me, I think he is responsible. I think 'forever' is in there somewhere. Cost of the War in Iraq
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