:: The S.I.C.L.E. Cell ::

:: Tuesday, January 30, 2007 ::

An email I sent to my bestest buddy (who is wishing s/he didn't know me right about now) this P.M.:

"i would have been coming out of the abortion just now. mebbe sitting in the big white leather chair asking for meds for the woman next to me, caring for her so i don't have to think about myself. besides, i felt nothing but physically better. cheezits and tea. first food in forever. forever.

i'm listening to cocteau twins while cleaning the kitchen. been a long time since. makes me think of who i was before. i get angry. and terribly sad. if i wasn't who i am now moments like these might be the end collectively.

i'm glad (dh) is out of town. i would go to him about it maybe and he wouldn't want to hear so i'd get mad and feel even more alone. or maybe i wouldn't go to him about it...i wouldn't. but i'd be angry about the whole thing. forgiveness is a strange and difficult thing. i'll forgive him tomorrow. but not today.

i don't understand any of this really. it has been ten years. i don't know. how do you kill your child and just go on with your life?

mebbe my old music is burrowing a special little hole for me to fall farther into.



i just want to be who i was. this is pathetic... a 35-year-old-woman crying like a baby, swimming through visions of an oversized black sweater i'd like to stuff myself back into... be my ignorant me again with life stretched out ahead and dreams that i'm better that i am, that life will be better than it is.

i can't unknow what i know. i can't undo what i've done.

inappropriate; i'm dumping on you cuz i can. i'll send you pretty pictures from the mountains and make it up to you."

:: ashli 8:31 PM # ::
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