i’m super bitchy right now. SUPER. i have canker sores. i have been getting them since i was a kid and even with all the other stupid health shit wrong with me that causes me pain i find canker sores the most annoying and they make me want to freak out at everything. but talking hurts them, everything hurts them even breathing. i get them in the worst places and you’d think i would just get one at a time, but getting only one would be for someone with a statistic of at least 5% of good luck in life or higher.

i get them big and i generally get two or three little ones that seem to grow and meet each other and turn into a united ‘we hate you’ big one. right now i have two and they are ALMOST ready to join, they are resting on my teeth so i can’t move my mouth without feeling them. everyone always thinks they have some disgusting mixture of things to swish around in your mouth that gets rid of them. NOTHING gets rid of them until they are ready to go.

fine, so i do not get them as bad as i did as a teenager. when i had braces there were times the inside of my bottom lip was just one massive canker and i would simply smother the whole bottom layer of my teeth in wax. it was such a hot look, sometimes i can’t believe it didn’t catch on.

i have drawn a composite sketch of the current sores in my mouth.

here also is a picture of adam and i from last year right around this time that greenly (aka david) did some photo shop work on for me - the original is really dark, BECAUSE today is mine and adam’s two year anniversary. sucks i have these bloody mouth sores eh?

Antiblogger and his dreams of grandure have started a movement on line that should prove in time to be more popular than sex.

here is my first submission.

doing puzzles at the table all the time all alone in the dinning room
big ones never under 1000 pieces always on cardboard left there for a while a new one dumber than the last would appear
i’d feign interest with the edge pieces and then it goes back in the box
put me in a box
i can close the door to my walk in closet closed in and sit in there in dark or in light and leave the bedroom dark so the light from the closet spills out onto the rug that i can’t see anyway because the door is closed and i am supposed to be hiding
not that you’d look, remember when i always used to run away when we lived in that house in that town where there was thunder storms and i got yelled at because i couldn’t remember the word ARE when learning to read and i’d sit around the corner with my pink buggy, my doll and my baby blanket and wait. i waited. no one ever came to get me. no where else to go but back with my doll and my baby blanket in my buggy.
i stand in the kitchen i talk and talk and tell you important things. someone wrote that i was a something something on my locker today and it won’t come off and
it goes right through you
“why the fuck did you even have children you don’t even LISTEN to me EVER?” i yelled it
you live in a puzzle piece your blank face told me that.
feel the floor as i turn and run back up to my box. i always have slippers on i hate bare feet i hate them