of course i’m at home, i’m always at home, i’m uncool


almost famous is over again. the movie makes me ache. the sunday blackness has descended with the rewinding of the video. i try my mightiest to stave off this sunday blackness which tries each sunday to ruin this last piece of quiet before work begins again.

i thought a night of decadence. . . well as decadent as a single woman in a small town can get would help ease the pain. there was garlic-cheddar potatoes for dinner, lazing about in the couch with one hand shoved down my pants, one thumb hooked under the front of my bra (because sometimes the twin peaks makes a bra most uncomfortable when you are laying on your back), a blanket, a warm kitty on my belly, chocolate, if i’d have just thrown in an orgasm and a man the night would have been spectacular, spectacular!

but now the movie is over and i am sad. i am worried. i think my insecurities make me insensitive and self-centered, my two biggest pet peeves. i long for nothing more than to be captivating, special and creative.

but i fear i am not and that fear makes me into a not so good person.

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