Mainlined, Maimed, Still Strangely Kicking.
Saint Louise Was Listening On
10:26 p.m. || 2004-02-06
Late, but not late enough. Today I had a black girl put my hair up in a wrap, and when I set it down it came out lovely. I wish she could have seen it when I let it down.
Drove home in the fog and rain on 84E, squinting and uncomfortable. I really thought we were going to close at 1:00 today. It was a nice thought. The DDS must have gotten in trouble for letting us open late last storm, because she was on the war path today.
Ovulating today, strangely enough I was watching the Astronaut's Wife. I held a pillow to my stomach and thought about my daughter, thought about my children that I will never have, and I almost cried. I also almost vaulted myself back into the panic attack that took me last night.
Kim let me feel Katie kicking today, and I had to sit in the bathroom and cry afterwards. Watching her day in and day out with her hands resting comfortably on her ever-growing belly makes me jealous and sad. Oh God, what am I willing to compromise from both sides of my selfishness?
Beautiful and Poisoned.
7 months, 19 days and 4 hours. Keeping a different kind of b-log. Do you remember that scene in "Bamboozled" where the Mau-Maus we're doing their countdown to death? Yeah kind of like that, only I don't have the access to national TV.
My womb is as it ever was, and I am merely witness to it, same as I ever was. My resolve to my relentless will is as timid as it ever was. What dreams I relish of my growing stomach, and why they always turn to a horrid birth, a traumatized child, and my own shadowed form dead in the stirrups. They can put the girl on Xanex, and help calm her, and they can put the girl on Trazadone and make her sleep, but you can never take away the comfort of the nightmares.
Am I really insane? I wonder sometimes. I really wonder if it would make the difference to put my on a bevy of drugs and see what happens. Sometimes I think they should lock me away for a while, and I might be able to be alone, and mend.... or if not mend have a safe place to stay broken. I wonder what kind of person it takes to Love me. I wonder what kind of person it takes for me to be in Love. I don't know which is more taxing on whom.
I long for the bed, the bathtub, some darkness, and a hoping that I could just drift into a place more comfortable than this. I wonder if what I see in the mirror and what people see when they look at me are two different things, like they were for long after I was raped. I wonder if anyone sees anything at all.
Including me.
Listening to "Mer de Noms"
"Thinking of You."
Turn the rhythm to the vision that's in my head... Unmistakeable noise I was hearing, unmistakeable sound I know so well...spin spin with a look in your eye, spinnin' sweatin' with a look on your face like: Sweet Revelation, Sweet Surender."