Right now, I am trudging through, poison ivy or sumac, and a load of guilt.
I have a huge confession, and I am not ready to say it out loud.
It's nothing bad, it's just something I don't talk about.
I suppose, I'm just not ready to talk about it.
The one brand of poison, is on my arms. Some on my chest.
A bare bit on my legs.
Ok, and some on my God Blessed fingers!
Right now, I am wringing my hands when I am not typing,
bc, I do not want to scratch.
Rest assured, I am not contagious.
At least, I hope not.
P.S. Things are going to be dicey this week.
In every aspect.
I don't feel well. I'm going to have to do things this week,
I will not enjoy.
Except for Tuesday.
I'm planning yet, another secret adventure,
but never fear, I will at least let one person know
I am not motivated.
I have lost her, even though I need her so badly.
So you see, Kitten, the reason?
For the whole poison comparison thing?
Is, I feel as if my body, my life, has been poisoned.
In haunting, mirrored rhythm.
But my rhythm, has been interrupted, and everything is off kilter.
I am fearful. Scared.
My insides shake as if I am riding in a car
with bad shocks.
It means, I have to find my center.
It means, I have to spend a bunch of time alone.
And, I don't want to.
It's not a big deal.
At least I have the vision to know what to do.
How to help myself.
When to help myself.
Identify the issue.
Face it head on.
Take in my accountability.
Speak with Spock, and less with Kirk.
Hosted by Mr. Pete Higgs?
I am terrified of asking him to cut my hair the way I want it.
Think, um, Catherine Zeta Jones, CHICAGO.
I mean, hair grows,
Nothing to be feared.
But, if you feel as if I am making a huge mistake,
Or at least, before Tuesday.
Or call call Mr. Pete Higgs @ 865-471-1516, to voice said concerns.
(Give fair warning.)
Or channel cut my bangs.
I may be a fucking genius.
After all this time, there's still more work to be done!
I still love you, and of course, without the "but."