lucky duck

"are you shouting at me?"
"yes i am, you stupid bitch."
-- 7:21pm, Fraser Place.

it's all about choice.

the spoon falls and the silence is broken.
the silvery sound it made on the floor echoes in my ear.
the syrup glistens on the tiles.
i pick up the slice of mandarin orange but it slides and escapes my thumb and forefinger.
i am distracted from the machinations of my mind.
sigh.
i dread the chore of standing up and getting another spoon.
i sip the syrup from the bowl and eat the remaining fruit with my fingers.
i can live without the spoon.

anathema

the carnival of the damned is in town and i'm the main event.
the lions will be feasting on me once the last curtain falls and the lights go out.
you left me just when i needed your whip and your overly theatrical voice to protect me from the savages.
all i have is a baton to swat their claws away.

dum spiro, spero.

the truth is spoken in whispers.

papercut

it was only half an inch long, but the sting of the papercut reached the tips of my toes. i stuck my ring finger in my mouth, instantly recoiling from the metallic taste of my blood. i pinched the wound, oddly fascinated by the scarlet sliver with a red bead forming at one end. i hiss in pain as my nail slid into the cut, popping the sanguine bubble.

i have a band-aid here somewhere.

da mihi sis cerevisiam dilutam

i wasn't being selfish. i was being scared.

"order up!"

grr.

whoo-ee. i'm psychic. my best guy friend's getting married and i feel nasty about it.
i'm admittedly being selfish. i know i'm losing a shoulder to cry on, beer buddy and occasional comic relief. i don't like it one bit because i don't know how to cope with the news. besides, i think vicki hates me.
i'll just wallow in my prehensile state of mind for now.

karma

I’m sipping a rather ersatz strawberry shake. There’s a crick in my neck that no bodily contortion can cure. I’m supposed to be working but my mind is somewhere else. I’m not yet asleep but I’m already dreaming.

Today sucked. How bad can tomorrow be?

i'm fine pretending that i'm not

it's monday again and my weekend's shot.
i'm just fine pretending that i'm not.
please hold my hand, you're all i've got.

this is going to be the longest, most agonizing week ever. i'm not up to divulging details. truth serum's not gonna do me any good this time.
and i had pepsi for lunch. that said a lot.

cloned

"it's a matter of doing the right thing and doing things right."

physiological arousal

i have been known to lose my temper inappropriately, sometimes regrettably. but when it does count, i'm like a rag doll, all limp and lifeless. i retreat to one corner, rock myself back and forth and rationalize what's not worth rationalizing and make excuses for whatever my anger's directed at.
i have no freedom to wander aimlessly, kick at stones and stare at the endless horizon; my room is my refuge. my frustration pillow's on retirement and i haven't found a replacement yet. it has choked many screams and stemmed torrents of tears and i have, guiltily, taken it for granted.
i must be the perfect medium for rage when i'm really feeling it. i let my emotions commandeer the steering wheel and hit the tree. i take wicked delight in "letting it rip", uncaring who i hurt in the process. i'm remorseful, yes, but that's after the fact.
do i need counseling? not really. i've learned to sense different gradations of my temper and maneuver myself away from going ballistic. oh and that's when my silly switch comes in handy.
a happy new year to you, too.

addendum: spurred by janjanbinks' entry, anger management.

frizzy future

i'm getting on the rebonding bandwagon just when everyone's getting off. well, you know how i hate crowded rides.
and just when i'm getting ready to climb on, i get sentimental and miss my fluff. maybe i'll regret it and maybe i won't, but i guess i'll procrastinate a little longer... maybe 2 hours. heehee.