My mouth hurts today, because the dentist had his fingers and tennis balls and kitchen sinks in it again. I've been sick and sad and worn out, anxious for it to be next week and for things to go back to normal. I'm tired of not feeling like there's enough of me to fill out my skin.
I don't regret all of the time that I spent with Mac & Jack, Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, or Jose Cuervo this year, but I do regret all of the subsequent hangovers. A resolution for next year: hydrate!
TMS called from somewhere in the southwest to demand my feelings about the year. I refused to play along, because I am stubborn and unsatisfied in ways that'll probably seem less important once I have a full night's sleep. I am tender in too many places, and the pretence of sweeter words could likely melt me in the same way as a hand on the small of my back. I'm too vulnerable for a summing up, spending too much time pausing in doorways and soliciting hugs. I'm working on it, but then again I always am and it's what makes me so tired.
Someday I will be brave and distant. Just not today.
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