I can see the storm opening up, miles away, over the river,

as if it weren’t already raining here in my heart.

can’t stop crying.  the snuffly, teary, non-hysterical kind.  putting it here cos I just want to put it outside myself.  don’t want to put it anywhere I’d have to explain myself, cos I don’t want to.  I haven’t got anything to hide; I just seriously have no interest in talking about it. don’t want to bother a friend cos there’s not much to tell.  can’t put it on facebook… my stepmother friended me forfucksake.

I didn’t unfriend anyone on facebook. I deactivated my account.

it turns out it was the febreeze in my son’s shoes. or is it…
as long as it takes me quietly I don’t give a fuck.

this would be because twice in the past I’ve gotten my knickers in a twist and unfriended him. I haven’t tried to friend him again. I feel like Lucy holding the football for Charlie Brown. part of me would like to have him as a facebook friend- part of me wonders if he would actually re-friend me (and rightfully so).

it’s been, oh I don’t know, at least a month, maybe two, since that last blowup. I’ll give it a year or so and then friend him. my feeling about it is kind of reminiscent of being sent to my room to think about what I did… kind of sucky, but not as bad as waiting till dad got home to spank me.

we used to call my mother “The Bolter.” I am totally The Bolter. gotta work on that.

Dear Fucking Diary,

Today I ate a cookie for breakfast. It’s already past noon and I haven’t killed, maimed, or gravely injured anyone.

S.

something beautiful.

well, fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I broke up with him yet again and I’ve got to stay clear. this is nuts.

I don’t ever remember wanting so much to punch someone in the face.

I’m tired of dating people that don’t even LIKE me. never actually did. I think I’m the one that throws the fog over it. I’ve got to stop doing that. if only I could remember that charming is something a person does, not something they are.

BabyJane’s ninth birthday at Bella’s.

sometimes moments of clarity are uplifting; sometimes they’re just clarity.

I just had a flash where I understood beliefs/hope/fantasy are what keep us going and doing what has to be done. in reality you never reach the top of the hill. the cavalry never comes. the man “of your dreams” is only invested enough to do what it takes to make sure you don’t leave. he thinks your ass is nothing special and there might be a better ass around the corner some day.

as I wrote on my pee-chee in high school: life is a sucking, swirling eddy of despair, punctuated by small moments of false hope in an ever-darkening universe. [quote is of unknown origin, mid-80's]

god, I fucking hate it that the default setting is ‘publish to facebook.’ motherfucking fucker. I had a nice time shouting at the computer for several seconds.

and…