saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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I'm fine. I'M FINE, REALLY.
Now, now, now�you all needn�t worry your pretty, little heads about any kind of deeply buried, carefully hidden pain in my life that causes me to write cryptically in an online diary, donning a bitterly cheerful face and then logging off to go drink myself into a puddle of vodka, piss, and broken dreams. My temperament is really contrary to that sort of misguided, melodramatic, pandering for attention, don�t you think?
But really. Seriously. The only time I try to be enigmatic in this diary is when I�m describing events or behavior involving individuals who, I�m sure, would really rather I didn�t spill their dirty, filthy, secrets that make children weep in such a public forum. Of course, I might sound a little disconnected and out-of-sorts when I sit down to write after a night out with the popular kids, gobbling up illicit substances with special names like �E� and �Meth� and �No Seriously That�s a Glass of My Own Urine� in the attempt to be seen as cool. I�m still cool, right? Right?
Damn it.
So, honestly and truthfully, I have no idea why I�m such a scatter-brained bitch lately. Okay, yes, today maybe, what with the headache and the womb-crushing pain and the project that wouldn�t die and the fact that this morning the orthodontist doomed my daughter to teeth-straightening-appliance-related peer torture until she is at least sixteen. And let�s face it: by the time she gets rid of all of the metal in her mouth, no one in high school is going to be able to look at her beautiful, straight teeth and see anything other than the brace-faced eccentric with weird musical tastes (I mean, come on: what kind of fucking freak doesn�t like Bon Jovi?) who was always reading and who talked with a slight lisp � that is, when anyone talked to her at all. And is that really fair? IS IT?
One of these days, someone is going to come up with a cure for this parental habit of projecting old insecurities onto unsuspecting offspring. Whoever they are, I�m sure they�ll make a fortune off of my recovery process.
4:50 p.m. - 2003-09-17
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