* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It's dark, it's soft with some pokey out bits some of which are sharp and hurt; it's like anyone else's head really.


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BLOGS
:: Alex Bennett [>]
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::Barb [>]
::Brian Malow [>]
::Charles [>]
:: eva8 [>]
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:: KITHblog [>]
::Kristi [>]
::Marc Hershon [>]
:: My Cat Hates You Dot Com [>]
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:: Not Always Right [>]
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:: Questionable Content [>]
:: Recovering Beauty [>]
:: Sarah [>]
:: Sarah C [>]
:: Social Grace [>]
:: Tavie [>]

Wednesday, February 2

Why?

Why am I still awake? (I was so tired today that I almost fell asleep in my therapist's waiting room.)

Why am I eating a roast beef sandwich at quarter past 10pm? (I think it might be a PMS thing, you know the need for red meat.)

Why am I online when I wanted to go to sleep at 7:15pm? (I was on the phone when I realized that I wanted to be in bed, unconscious. Sorry, Brian.)

Why didn't I read this sooner?

Do not stand by my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am a diamond glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake to the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft starshine at night
Do not stand by my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die.

- Mary Frye, 1932 Isn't that lovely?


Why am I still writing when I really want to be in bed with cats leaning on me?

Why?


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