I am fairly good at disappearing and reappearing.
Sometimes you just have to take cover.
My air conditioner is making the most horrid noise. I can barely read another page of my newly purchased copy of Eat, Pray, Love because my air conditioning unit is being inconsiderate. As I am writing this or have written this entry, I forgot that I have given my laptop a virus by viewing adult content. So I must write (already wrote) within a journal I had discarded months ago. As I thumb through the pages of my old friend I cannot help but laugh at the snide and cynical remarks that I recorded for God knows what reason. I probably still am a little snide and cynical, but that’s who I am.
I am not wearing any make up and I feel as gritty as this sample of writing. My breasts are pouring out of my shirt because I have failed to put on a proper fitting bra. Today like any other day I am a mess and an enemy, an enemy to myself of course. An enemy, a prisoner, and the executioner all in one. I think my cat may even be disgusted with me today. I have cleverly named her Rashida Jones. Rashida is waiting for me to hang myself so she can feast on my cold plump corpse. I too would get sick of eating the organic kibble I buy for her. Sometimes I feel like I am taking up space in this world and potentially hindering the birth of the second coming because some mellow dramatic college student is too busy feeling sorry for herself.
I will try my best not to abandon the one thing I love; Writing.