It’s been over a year since I’ve written anything here or even logged on…and yet as I scan my past I see how much I’ve morphed into a different creature. I still love a good glass of gin and late night ramblings but I’m not desperate for….well anything. For once in my existence I’m content with what I have, sure, I’d like to have a little more money and some nicer clothing but I’m not dying to live anymore. I am not destroying myself (or anyone else for that matter). I transformed from a wandering, needy, lying, drunken, pack-a-day smoker into a content, happy, loved, mother. Apparently the recipe for my happiness is as follows:
1 handsome male (find on the internet)
3 slaps of reality (serve hot)
2 cups of I’m sorry
1 positive pregnancy test
1 pack of crushed cigarettes
Spoonful of pride
Freshly filled gas tank
Mix vigorously and never look back.
One journey has ended and another has begun. I couldn’t be more excited.
I am your parachute. But there’s only one problem with having me for your parachute; I won’t open when you need me to. We have a mutual need, you need me to keep you above the crushing earth and I need you to pull my string so I can fly. Falling down is a beautiful thing, it reminds us that we are vulnerable, soft and fleshy.
I love my bedroom….it’s so…surreal?
It’s 3am and you find yourself sitting drinking, watching a movie about drinking while someone who has already drank is snoring on the other couch…The previous night this would have sounded like a great idea but now you realize how dull it is. You want to go home but then realize there’s no one to go home to,you don’t have somebody to love. It kills your mood. You decide to drink a little more hiding behind the cloak of a laptop pretending like everything is peachy, when in reality you feel hopeless. You have less than an hour before the taxi arrives and you have to pack the rest of your gifts along with the pajamas you didn’t put on. You have to take your mask back off the shelf and put it on to go “home”.
I always feel so dirty being self sufficient but I’d rather be dirty than guilt ridden for relying on others…except if its for alcohol, I openly accept donations in bottle form.
I went to the fountain of youth today. Whilst I was bathing in the bitter-cold fresh water I smoked a cigarette and as I looked down at the fish dancing around me I wondered where I actually was.
Anonymous asked: Your blog is wonderful.
Thank you kindly, I should keep up with it more but I’m too busy dreaming of men who are dead whilst singing at the bottom of a bottle xxx
I was born in the wrong era but that’s ok; time is relative.