I just washed my mother's hair in the kitchen sink. It, as most things do these days, made me think about getting old. My mom has cancer. It's surreal how desensitized I am about the whole thing. Am I just being naive? Or is the fact that I'm not, or don't seem to be, bothered by the whole cancer thing actually one of the healthier feelings I've had in months? I can't seem to tell. It seems stupid to be worried about not being worried. There's always this glimmering doubt festering inside me. It comes along with the good and bad, just there to make me crazy. I would kill it, if I could.

There's a little boy living in my stomach. No, I'm not pregnant. He's little and lives there and most of the time he's angry or ornery about something. He's vocal. I would send him to kill my doubt, my guilt, but I'm almost sure that it's actually the little boy living in my stomach that is the one that needs to die. Abort, I say! I'd gladly spend a(nother) morning with my toilet to get rid of all this sickness inside me, this stupid girl sickness.

And fuck you for making me cry. I hate myself for letting you get to me that much.

On a daily basis I battle with myself for true emotion. It sounds stupid, but if you've never experienced it then you would have no idea how bothersome and tiring it is. I have a constant ping pong game going on inside my brain. So forgive me if every now and then I need to do something to make the shit stop. I'm missing my old vices. I'm missing my old drugs. Sometimes, and there are times, when alcohol just isn't enough. I'm tired of the temporary.

Men. Ha! Hahahahaha! Men and sex. Did you know that I hold feelings of regret with half the men I've slept with? It keeps me awake some nights, squirming in disgust with myself, over my own broken heart. I don't understand why a woman like me who knows better, doesn't know why it won't be better. It won't help anything to sleep with this guy... Except that for a little while you can forget about everything else. I guess I use sex as much as I do anything else. Some days it seems like my whole life revolves around escape.

I want that feeling to be permanent but even as I'm thinking that it doesn't make sense. Eventually you have to stop running. Eventually you have to take a real hard look around. But me? See, every morning I wake up and the same three thoughts occur (in this order): What time is it? Where are my pants? I'm still here. I crave the temporary but want it to be permanent? I want the passion to never dull, the newness to never fade. I want a lifetime of first kisses with familiarity. I no longer believe in love, or at least real love, and there is both beauty and despair left from that realization.

Duality has become my life. Dichotomy. I am an (im)perfect whole. I need no soul mate, I'm already my own other half. If I bought the right vibrator, I'd never need to see another man ever again, except for the fact- yes fact- that sex is fun. Though I'm still pondering the whole do nuns masturbate question... I guess chastity is something I'll never understand.

I don't think I'll ever really change. Live now. Hope for the best and analyze it later. Have a drink and smile, remembering. Cheers.