I Want My Bubbles Back
I feel flat. Flat like three-day-old ginger ale. Flat like my hair twenty minutes after I leave the house. Flat like Gwen Stefani's chest (not that there's anything wrong with that). And it's annoying, because in the winter I was sick and it was winter so there was that, and then I got better (but now Eve's given me her cold and I'm paralyzed with fear that The Cough is going to come back), and then it was raining a lot so I thought, well maybe it's that. But now it's sunny, and it's not winter, and I'm supposed to have turned that goddamned corner. I had imposed a nice little linear narrative on that part of things, and this chapter was bright, and productive, and inspired, and THREE-FUCKING-DIMENSIONAL. And now goddamned if I haven't looped, and here I am - flat, again.
I know -- it's ridiculous that I should be surprised by my own loopiness at this point in life. But I want my damn bubbles back.
Comments
(I don't think you're loopy, I think you are v. funny.)
I'm going to send warm sunny weather vibes your way...and hugs too.
I had no idea Gwen was so flat up front. She's my new role model.
I hope you feel better.
I think you're loopy. But you think I'm loopy, too, so we're even. It's a virtue, really. Loopiness is entirely under-rated.
I tend to draw the shades and hide.