| O.A., Bodily Functions, & Ex-es Nine months ago I admitted I'm an addict and I haven't written a damn thing since. What the hell is this then-- The pregnancy of stunted gifts and lethargy? This was definitely planned, this compulsion, this drug-of-choice, this revenge: "...can't stop, it's all that's left; it's all that's allowed." You are going to love me for me, damn it! That was #2. And talk about a buttload! #1 started out as a thin trickle and guess what-- pretty soon we were knee deep and it was too late for Depends. Me and my art, music, writing, philosophizing were really never good enough-- I was forced to learn that early on. I've been screamed at and cussed out and asked to believe all manner of lies about how awful, worthless, and deficient I am... Swallow this, baby--"you have no character." I need an upper. I need a downer. Church people revile me as not holy enough so I'll prove it, but I don't do drugs. Ex-tacy? Ha. We already know I was a bad bad girl. The freak-a-zoids of [where I live] all hate me because I refuse to relate to their sicknesses. I even quit drinking in protest but I sure won't quit what I'm into. A little psychadelic shit? Nah. I'm the self-centered center of the universe. God loves you There is no God I am/You are God He's sending me/you to hell... Well for God's sake, PASS THE CHIPS!! So there you have it, and now what? I'm me, and "me is good; "me" is cool enough-- no one can take that or reduce that, try as they may, have, do, want to... but guess what--no one can see ME anymore. If I dropped X # of pounds, Mr. Personal Genie, My kids would still get sick and Aetna still wouldn't hire me as a manager-in-training due to attendance. I'd still have Ex #1 in jail who'll try to drive me insane when he gets out. I'll still be broke and drive a beater. I'll probably never have sex again and the one who got away ain't coming back. But who cares? Just me, the goddess herself. In that capacity I'll reserve judgement for myself, but I'm not meant to be carrying all this. I didn't join Weight Watchers at age thirteen over fifteen pounds to look like this now. Nor was I ever suppoed to stuff and snuff all my talents because I feel so damned lousy about how I look that I can't think of anything else. Do I get to take that back? So much time I've spent in ny own defense, (I could be a lawyer by now) trying to somehow prove my own validity... I'm starting to wonder if I've got a complex other than the one you can see all over me. So here I am trying to come to grips with all those things procrastinated for years. For now, I think I'm just trying to say I'm getting my feet out of the mud a bit, and surprise, surprise, the dig out takes as long as the dig in. PamEhli/2001 |
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| Since 1-20-03 |
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