i was angry earlier.

angry that i was ambushed after work and forced into happy hour when, after the poop-fest of a day i had, all i wanted to was go home, curl up under the strong arm and watch obama tv. after spending last night out and about, i was happy to have some boytime. but along comes girl one and girl two, fresh from a half day at work and their first day of classes, blocking in my car and telling me i'm going to happy hour, all my excuses be damned, they are world class negotiators and there is no escaping for little sara who is in no mood for alcohol, she is pissed and irritated and her eye hurts, but little sara is also aware of her inability to say no, her unwillingness to disappoint (which is funny because she knows she is disappointing the kevin on the couch at home and more importantly HERSELF but these peoples, they are right in front of her and she has to look at them) and--how did i start talking in the third person?

anyway, i was angry earlier and had some margaritas and some friday's appetizers and that did nothing to quell my mood so i spouted off some amusing shit about how much i hate my job and oh isn't it funny how i'm not fired har har har and peaced the eff out of there. kk was sleeping by the time i got home of course or at least mostly asleep, he was awake enough to tell me somethings and put his arm around me and kiss my head, but it was dark and i couldn't see his face and i...

i tried to sleep but craved water and less angry i got up to eat a sandwich and finish the refurbishing of this here moodswing space (and changed the size of the box to support much longer sentences) and instead of writing about previously being angry i thought about writing about the untold story i am always meaning to tell but everytime i start to write i think, i will start here--no, back here--no, where is the beginning, there are so many aspects intertwined it is hard to figure out and instead of telling stories i end up writing rough drafts of wedding vows (though i am in no position to do so) and come up with so many i think i'll buy a card tomorrow just for him and write some lovely things, leave it on the pillow for him to find while i am at work and he is home

except i don't have any money
but i do have a lot of postcards

and whether or not i will do it that is not the point, the point is i am retarded when i am in love and he fills in all my spaces and where i am clingy he is possessive, when i am a free spirit he lets me fly (and watches my shadow to make sure i don't go too high), where i am a whiny little girl he is a big strong man and when i say that i would be lost without him i know it is not true in the sense that i know i can, because i did, survive on my own; but it IS true because this person that i am now exists with and because of him, we are intertwined down to the special way he holds my hand, i am forever changed by who he is and what he means to me and other assorted greeting card sentiments

[when i am the sad girl with the sick eye who just wants to go home and be comforted but is instead driving round the full parking lot, trying to get to the doctor but gets to the end and finds no spots are available, i say, almost crying 'well what am i supposed to do now' and it just sounds so little and sad and previously in these moments this little girl would think of her mommy because she is the most comforting but now she thinks of her partner and smiles because he pats her on the head and wraps her up in his arms and tells her its okay... but now just now she thinks of her mom and gets sad instead... these brackets aren't supposed to be here! stop writing and go to bed!]

i don't drive, i sigh a lot. happy contented sighs, but not complacent. i don't lie anymore, i don't run anymore from or toward an unavoidable ending because the only ending inevitable is death and even that is in question