last week I think it reached a new abject low point.
extreme sports beige.
I got so sick of people telling me how great I looked when I felt like shit – that I shaved my eyebrows off. Badly. I’m hiding the cuts under eyebrow pencil.
Sometimes if you send a sad desperate need out into the ether it comes back at you in a damn nice way. Or you get slapped in the face with a wet fish. Or kicked in the teeth. Reality is like that. Random.
anyway - some wonderful amazing blue angel of fucking trashy mercy rescued me last week. You know who you are and you go into the annals of mayhem survivor legend. You are so cool, you could be elvis, and johnny cash and the virgin mary combined.
I’m not sure if anyone can possibly read the above and not think I’m completely insane. The blue angel has mary eyes – and behavioural predilictions like Clairwul from the noted Sadish tome “Juliette” . I think I found heaven. I think I’m gay. I can’ sit down, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I’m so very very lucky.
I’ve been reading a new trashy self help book called Men: a users guide. Or something. I’m interested how almost half the population survives without vaginas. No wonder they are so insecure and do fucked up shit. Do they know what they are missing out on?
Anyway – Abel has finally decided that she needs to move out asap. She may even do it before she reaches the ripe age of 35. she reckons that she finally realised how much pain I’m in. I reckon its because she felt 5% of what I’ve been going through, and had the sense to act on it.
I still love her