December 21st, 2008

My head is spinning and the snow is falling and in the past couple of hours I have cooked so much that there won’t be the need to bake anything for ages and don’t you just wish that everyone would say what is on their mind.

I know how I feel in general:

It’s rather warm here
My drink tastes funny
Like not doing my laundry
Sad because this music reminds me of someone
Like doing more baking
Exposed
My neck is sore
My cheekbones are showing
Thirsty
Itchy
I want more human contact
Like I woke up fifty hours ago and haven’t returned to use my bed to sit on since.

Tomorrow is my nineteenth birthday. I’m remembering my fourteenth birthday, sitting on my bed writing out my plan to perform an unanesthetized hysterectomy on myself. Rather than just slitting open the flesh, I wanted to completely remove a rather large square of skin from my abdomen and replace it with brightly colored cellophane. I’d have made a lovely looking teletubbie.