Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Monday, May 24, 2010


The more I know about myself, the less I want to know about myself.
But I can't go back, it doesn't stop.  The forehead smackage continues.
It seem like at least one SMACKAGE every day.
94% is pure raw open pain.  And it oozes onto every aspect of my life.
6% is other stuff.  Even a few nice, to ruminate, stuff.

I'm all about brave, obnoxious, stubborn, strong, WIN.
I think it's how I survived, not totally broken.
It's how I survive every fucking day.
But once in a while lately, the BRAVEOBNIXIOUSSTUBBORNSTRONGWIN ditches me.
WTF?  Rude.  I've given you so much!
And it's terrifying and weak and small.
And we all know what happens to weak and small.
So, no.

I've seriously contemplated...if I knew what this marriage counseling thing would lead to...? 
Even now, with the awesome deep lovey shit DAVE.  That is so amazing and accepting and ridiculously selfish with the groovy oozy love place we're at. (I'll wait while you puke)
Would I trade it?  Do I wish we had never have gone?
I guess it depends on the day, and how bloody my forehead feels.

The reality is, I can't go back.  Even though I've tried REALLY hard to some days.
It's like an egg that is cracked open, and trying to shove all the yolky pleghmy oozy parts back into a broken shell.

So the latest bargaining attempt is:
I'm going to allow the vocal cords to produce noise, TALKSPEWBARF, and get fixed at the dreaded weekly appointments.
But I won't allow myself to feel anything, or make it mine.  It's just an anonymous story, by a pseudonym.
Remember and forget in one stage. 

I know.  I know!
But this is my bargaining process.
Let me just cling to this for a minute...

P.S. When someone asks you who your best friend you say the "right" answer or the fuzzy golden grey grandpa Moses answer?

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