I'm a Purple.

If you want everyone who loves you.
To leave you alone.
You will be alone.

If anyone has taught me that you can't lie in bed all day.
And wish you were dead.
I thought it was you.




..red and blue do make purple,
but that doesn't mean you'd call purple either of those colors..

I blame it on The Beatles and Champagne.

Startled.  I sat up quickly.  My leg was numb, microscopic glass shards poked out of small gashes.
Scrapes and pain.  My stupidity began to sink in as everyone turned and lifted me off the glass.
My heels had fallen off in the ironic crash.  My Stella unharmed.  I was dragged to the bathtub.
I laughed at the pain.  That half hearted half hurt laugh.  The one to remind yourself that you're okay.

You're just a dumb ass.

It had been quite a day, so why not finish it off by breaking a glass table whilst I attempted to dance to a Beatles song and walk from the couch to the floor using a small glass table as my middle man?  Albeit an expensive one I'm sure.



I washed out the glass with Helen and Kelsey's help while Jeff tended to a passed out Judy.

Disinfection.
The smell of blood wasn't very pleasant, nor was the wave of exhaustion.  I tried walking on it and figured since it wasn't totally mangled I was walking away a lucky woman, a lucky unbroken leg woman.
Elevation.
Ice.

Bandage wait.. wait.. wait..
Once I made it home, showered, I felt better.
Now to pay my bill.

I could never be Anorexic.

I just love it way damn too much.
I'm an emotional eater.
Always have been.
Thus the yoyo weight.
And the constant love hate
love hate
love oh god I love to hate you.. relationship.
with food.

Consume. Masticate. Chew. Smash.
Digest. Gulp. Slurp. Burp.

Smack. Taste. Lick. Bite.
Feast. Fork. Salivate. Swallow.

Jesus.  I want some Chinese food.

Today was the antithesis of yesterday.

You make me smile.
It's as simple as that.


:)

I should give myself more credit.

I think it's a bit sad.
When my poems foresee the future.
I stopped wearing the all seeing eye.
It left a green stain 'round my neck.

It did tell me the truth about people.
But I didn't really need it in the first place.
And I'm proud of myself.
For finally realizing this.

Winding down for the evening.  My tights are destroyed after one night and people accidentally burning me with cigarettes.  No bueno.  Time for rest, I have a big weekend ahead of me.

"Like Always, She Was Late."

If there was ever a line in a movie that would perfectly describe me.
It's this one.

The narration was a statement really.  It was an accepted flaw by both the character and the story teller.  Maybe it was endearing even..  but yes.  Although I'm constantly in denial about it, I am much more often than not, late.  I have few other friends who suffer from this illness.. and I always sympathize, it's like no matter what you do, how early you get up, or pre plan, you just can't make it right on time and arriving early? that's one rare commodity that occurs only when the planets line up or when baby Jesus decided to miracle your ass there, hah.

Apparently according to the internets this means I either have anxiety about important meetings or a lack of self discipline.  I think it means my creative mind is too distracted by thoughts to understand the concept of time and except it's "boundaries".. hahahaha. right.

With that said I should be heading out to my piano lesson.  But I have to remember where I put my keys, and re fill my water, oh yeah and change my clothes.  Wait did I forget my book?  Or were my keys in my jacket pocket?  Oh shit did I pay that bill?  I should do that now too..