...come again?

I woke up vaguely resembling Edward Scissorhands this morning. The goo stuff I put in my hair had it all fucked times nine and I forgot to wash off my makeup last night. Of course, the pale is a given.

Sometimes, when things are going extroadinarily well, I just like to make things complicated.

Shake things up a bit.

Things at home are hell on Earth. I must say I'm only minutely surprised. It's just something added that I did not need to worry about.

I'm so very powerless over everything. Like a dancer around a maypole. Just going through the motions. The same thing over and over. Skipping about with flowers braided into your hair, around, around, around, around until... you finally run out of ribbon. And that's the end. No fireworks. No fanfare. All you have to show for it is some damned pole with a fuckton of ribbon wound around it.

...Or memories that, as I type this, are hopelessly unwinding themselves...

"Oh, I've been crazy for quite some time now. I just have a spectacular poker face."

I should have taken pictures.