At Least They're Committed

It’s snowing so the Mexican Refugee, so eager to make her exit an hour ago, is now curled up on my bed looking at me warily, fearful that I’ll make her go back outside. Temp is 13 F; 0 factoring wind chill. Dogs stay in on days such as today. Decided this morning I won’t… Read more

Yawn. Even when I tweet sober I look back in the tweets from the night before and they are either nonsensical or, worse yet, dull. I killed them. Felt good. I’m going to try to limit my tweeting to once a day and then only if it’s interesting. Read more

I don’t need anyone to pop in unexpectedly to tell me what I good girl I am. It’s me. I’m by myself and I can say it aloud. I not only friended and calmed any insecurities of She Who Despises Me, I didn’t PLAY and you KNOW how hard it is for me to, um,… Read more

Staring. Working furiously and staring. “Ease off. You’ve done enough.” I stop, I just stare. “Can you try to breathe? Please? This isn’t healthy.” I stare. “Your foot is bleeding.” I was already aware of that. He’s sitting in front of me, rubbing his temples. “You should be laughing, really. He sucks, SUCKS at metaphors. He… Read more

“I saw that.” “What?” I don’t even turn around, instead staring straight ahead at the monitor. “What you wrote to Caitlin . . . about Saturday.” Eh, “It’s nothing. Did you see the part where I said I was going to be really nice to that woman who is so unkind to me?’ “Uh-huh,” he… Read more

I wasn’t sure that I’d know where to start, but I did. I ran my left hand across my lips and started to speak of the morning a week ago last Monday, of when I got the second of the inappropriate texts; the one that made me cry out, sent me into panic and set my already teetering… Read more