I can't help myself.

I really felt the need to post a picture of my new tattoo. It is on the left side of my lower back, going along my hip. It's my new favorite tattoo, courtesy of Ruth. She does beautiful work, and I am proud to have it.

A draft of something that lacks emotional distance. Bad Idea!

"All I wanna do these days is bitch." I tell him. He's pushing my bangs out of my eyes. I think he's listening, but nothing he says is in response to what I say. "I mean, I have so much going for me, but I'm just not happy, you know? I'm sad."

"You have these big Bambi eyes that always look wet." He tells me.
"I've got a full ride, Dad pays for everything, my job is just money to blow....why am I not happy?"
"And your hair is the exact same color as your eyes, this rich brown."
"Maybe it's because I'm fucking obese or something." I look over at the picture collage I made of models clipped from catalogs, my thinspiration.
"Your freckles are the same color too. You never see that. Usually it's those red-head freckles."
"I fucking hate my freckles."
"You curse like a sailor." Finally he responds to something I say. I think he's gonna partake in the conversation now, so I keep going.

"I don't want to be that girl that always has something to whine about when all people see is all this shit I have going for me."
"Why don't you write more?"
"I don't want to be the girl that is always complaining about nobody loving her."
"Write something for me."
"Maybe it's because I suck in the sac or something. Or maybe I'm a suck-ass kisser."
"At least a haiku or something. You used to always write those."
"It's probably because I have a small mouth and huge fucking chompers." I expose my teeth and bite the air between us.
"You're a great kisser." He says and puts his index finger between my teeth to stop me from gnawing away at the space between us. "And you're a minx in bed."
"You think so?"
"What? Like I don't know?"

That shuts me up for a second.
"We aren't gonna do this again."
"What?"
"Date, fool."
"No shit."
"See, I'm the girl that only has stories about ex's and no current guy. I'm living in the past."
"Yeah, me too."

He grabs my hand and squeezes three times. His eyes are glassy and his hair is in his face. He puts a cigarette between his lips, lights it, then hands it to me.

"Thanks." I say.
"So why aren't you happy?" He says, lighting a cigarette for himself.
"I dunno. Maybe because I've been having those dreams again."
"Coke?"
"Yeah. Too many people have been talking about it lately. It gets on my mind, I guess." I instinctively rub my nose and sniff.

I watch the smoke leak between his parted lips, knowing he's watching me.

On Republicans

They honestly believe in the bullshit they spew. It is terrifying and embittering.


Vote democrat...seriously.