Men- future, past, present.

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Lately I have been feeling much better- I don't know if it's the hair or the repression or the cake or whatever it is- it's slowly but surely pulling me out of this quagmire. It's a quagmire.

I suddenly have this invincible unshakable belief that someone is going to come along and lift me out. This person is going to say "It's okay, Mush. Go ahead. Lean." and then I will gladly follow that person to the ends of the earth. I don't know when or where or whatever but I believe it. Betty thinks I'm crazy waiting around for a no-show prince and that I should 'date' to find him, but I think I should be able to spot the gold coin among the douchebags. I had a friend who once said to me "Why do you have to act so strong all the time? The ones who act the strongest are actually the weakest". When that person finally comes, I will have somewhere to lay my exhausted head. I will finally feel safe.

One of my indulgences and I don't have many indulgences [other than the constant gnashing of teeth on this blog] is to take ten minutes out of my day and sit on my front step, smoke a cigarette and talk to Sb in my head. I tell him about my day and I have a lopsided telepathic conversation with him. When the cigarette finishes, I pack it up and go back inside. I figure that I have to stop this before it becomes a full blown addiction.

I saw Coffee today. It gratified me to see he looked terrible. He was sporting a lank beatles bowl cut. I don't wish him any ill [seriously, none] but you know I'm no saint- I'm not complaining when people who've treated me badly have bad haircuts. It's karma! Wahaha