come_what_mayy

Her monologues ran in twenty different directions at once and really it was just pure chance that I caught her question. But I told her a fake name. I told her my name was Grey.

“That’s unusual,” she said. She had cut off another piece of cake but was making no moves towards eating it. “It’s nice, though. There are too many names that you hear a hundred times a day. Why did your parents call you that?”

I shrugged. “Maybe they thought it would match my personality. You could probably attest to that.”

She smiled, sipped her coffee. “Not grey. To me, you’re more of a warm brown. Of course, that would make for a much stranger name. But it’s nice to meet a brown. They’re the calming presences in life, you know. Too many people are reds and yellows, all noise and chaos.”

“What colour are you?”

“What do you think?”

I looked at her. Her hair was brown, her eyes a blue-green, but that meant nothing. I knew my answer immediately but I didn’t know what she would make of it. I thought it was quite easy to misinterpret.

“Pink,” I said.

“Ah,” she said, and nodded. “You’re good at this. I always classified myself as a pink, too.”

We sat in silence for a moment or two, but it was not an uncomfortable one. The truth was that I usually spent my days alone in coffee shops or parks. I never knew what to expect when I returned home. This was refreshing, to say the least.

“And your name?” I broke the silence, unusual for me.

“Roseate.”

From the way she looked up at me after she said it, I knew that wasn’t her real name, either. I wondered if she knew that I had been lying. I thought she probably had, and a strange little thrill ran through me, a thrill that I could not explain either then or now.

I've never felt like any guy wanted me. For as long as I can remember, I was always the hot girl's friend. I just want to be a hot girl, for once.

Okay, gypsies, I know it's a little early, but what are your goals/resolutions for 2010?
What would you like to do, or learn how to do?
Or, what have you done and recommend others should do, too?
I'm feeling restless, like it's time to start coming up with resolutions, but I'm not having much luck. Maybe it's still a bit early for that, but…

                                                                 "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too.
                                                               They live inside us, and sometimes, they win."
                                                                                                                     Stephen King

Okay.

So last night I went to a friend's house for some drinking. Apparently it wasn't supposed to be a light night. We were doing shots of Rumplemintz, which at the time felt like a fantastic idea (typing the word "Rumplemintz" even makes me want to vomit). I took 4 shots. FOUR FUCKING SHOTS. And I was done. I ate a grilled cheese. Then calmly walked into the bathroom and threw it up. Then made my way to my friend's couch and passed out until my boyfriend came to pick me up. He took me home where I cried all over him, and passed out.

I woke up at 6am to my stomach in rebellion. I got out of bed, and promptly vomited all of the water and juice I had apparently drank when I got home. Passed out until about 10, when I had to RUN to the bathroom, or else I'd have shit my pants. And this is when it got bad. Sat on the toilet. It wasn't coming. Wtf? Then my stomach started churning. And stirring. Oh no. I had to vomit. And I was mid-shit. So I grabbed the garbage can next to the sink, and did a sweet vomit-shitting combo. My god it was bad. And the vomming was complete with that horrible loud heaving. My boyfriend thought I was dying.

Ugh the vom/shit combo was I think the worst ever. And I was steadily hung over and sick as all hell until 3pm. It was a not so good day.

Hi there tmi!
So today I was out all lunch and it was cooold, so when I came back inside, my hands were freezing. So I went for a peepee and as I was wiping I could feel the heat of my hooha through my fingers. So I finish wiping, then proceeded to use my vag as a hand warmer. Worked damn well!
Also, does anyone else get this-I go for a poo, then I wipe and as I have a rubbish diet and a small 'roid, it usually takes a while to make sure I am totally clean (cos the "unclean itch" never starts until you have no way of sorting it out)and so many times by the time I get myself clean, another wave of poo comes out! I don't know if it's the length of time I'm sat there, all the movement round my bumhole or a combination of both, but it's VERY annoying. Especially as it only seems to happen at work, when I'm already stressing out about how long I've been sat on the loo. Whenever I go back I'll either get knowing looks which is embarrassing, or some innocent will ask me where I've been and I have to think of something convincing,as I really cannot say "Oh I've just been for a monumental shit".

So basically, my body hates me and I usually only poop once a week if I'm lucky. It's not because I'm lacking in fiber, water, or exercise. I do all of that but my body will just not cooperate. I've considered IBS but honestly, who knows.

Anyway. Because of that, when I feel the need to poop, I get seriously excited, lol. But, at the same time, I usually dread it. 85% of the time, they aren't refreshing, relieving poops. They're either accompanied by loose stool and cramps or they're so soft that they're impossible to push out more than a tiny bit, which leaves me feeling gross and like I need to poop the rest of the day.

Does anyone else have this problem...? What in the world can I do? The only time when I go more than once a week is what I'm on my period. :(

Edit: I should mention that I've tried psyllium husk, fiber supplements, and eating large amounts of fruits/veggies with lots of water. I feel pretty hopeless. I'm jealous of those people that can poop every day and it only takes them a minute or two. It takes me upwards of 20 minutes.

i'm also tired of xmas.

you know whats really, reallllllllly good? helluva good french onion dip. with carrots. or chips. or whatever. and lime green kool aid. and stella artois beer. mmmm.

/pointless post, meant solely to break up the crying business all up in here lately.

My eyes are stinging from the crying. It's going to take vodka to get over this again. Doubles and lots of them. And ice-cream. Thick, minty chocolate ice-cream with a hundred calories in every spoonful. My girlfriends will have to stroke my hair from my eyes and wipe my tears, trying their best to make things okay again. I'll have to play The Pixies so loud the walls shake.

It feels as though someone's sitting on my chest; every time i try and take a breath i'm working twice as hard. I'm not yet sure if the beating of my heart has slowed down, or doubled in speed. I was praying this time it would be different, but i should have known not to rely on that. You can see it in me now. You can see it in my eyes. I didn't shower this morning and i'm still in the same clothes as when you left. I've not moved really. The empties still litter the lounge. I've not thrown out the take away boxes. I don't want anything to change, because if it's all the same then there's a chance this didn't happen. There's a chance it's all a horrible dream that i'll wake up from. Last time they sat me down and told me i couldn't do this too myself again. I suppose i knew it as well, but there was a big factor that they just didn't understand. They didn't realise how it all changes when you look at me, touch me ... kiss me. It all changes. I made promised to them that i wouldn't let this happened to me again. I promised. And now where am i? I'm trying to think of a character that i feel like. Someone in a book or play that i think has felt like this but i've got no one. It's like when Jane realises Rochester is already married and wanders through the moors. She doesn't have a clue where she's going and she can hardly make sense of the infomation she's been given. Her heart is exploding in her chest and she knows that it's partly her fault, because her actions helped to lead to this point. There's no denying the majority of the blame falls at Rochester's feet, but she can't bring herself to hate him. The love is always there, which is why he calls in the wind to her.

So take a good look at my face. You'll see my smile looks out of place. If you look closer it's easy to trace the tracks of my tears.

I wonder if this just happens to me or if everybody gets this.

Usually when I either have to poop, or will need to soon, I guess the poo in my colon hits nerves somewhere. It can be over 9000 degrees outside, but I will suddenly become as cold as if it were the middle of a cold winter. I'll get waves of goosebumps and want to get somewhere warmer or put on warmer clothes. If people touch me, they say it's weird how cold my hands are.

Does anybody else get this?