...and after the weekend, after the vacation -- i come home to a letter on the hearth, the letter, the official fuck you from god, the karmatic fist up my ass...

my claim appeal has been denied, i still somehow owe $4,500 for corrective surgery of a disfigurement. i hate these people, i really do...a boiling hate. i hit the phone out of frustration. i call and am told nothing -- they have to talk to the doctors office people, they cannot tell me why my claim was denied. they...they...they. fuck them. it is MY body.

it is MY body.

as if i did not already have enough stress and fucked-uppid-ness to deal with from the weekend. everything was smoothe and good...mostly. i worry about the amalthea's tears, but she is so lonely. we made her happy in ways (quite a few *wink*), although i am sure seeing TT and i together made her long for love. ...so hard to see her cry...and i(we) could do nothing to console.

then there are my own inner battles, though on a much lesser scale and not causing as much upset inwardly as i thought. frankly i'm screwed in the head and will never be able to heal properly from the rot...the infection of betrayal, the hell of a few years ago.

i think i have good karma.

why i am so happy now with my TT? because i almost died before, i was caving inward, non-justified.
...and, frankly, fuck you mr.p, if you are damaged for life when m leaves you...you fucking deserve it. i am now ruined in some way -- there are veins that run through me that i cannot map, emotional responses to things i cannot explain or rational through -- you deserve everything that comes to you -- you did this, betrayed all of the trust that i gave you, fell in love with her, left me cold, dry.

poor you, working three days a week in your fetish store, poor poor you with no money (um, perhaps work more and whine less?) or ambition to do something better -- to write those amazing words.

everyone looses...we should have a party, some sort of gathering, LA meeting, where we compete for the suckier life and yadda yadda, blah blah...oh, and wank wank. you always win that game somehow.

and i move on, pick up, rebuild, patch/repair/duct-tape. kind of funny, actually. funny to have a past so interesting and ultimately bleak. every newyears is the same now, the looking forward (?) to another year of life, the remembering of the OD/stomachpump/mental hospital/fuckedup freakshow world. my past. my death.

i remember being insane.

i remember being in love with you, mr.p. i remember when you were my whole world...i remember this...and i am so happy that i got out of there alive.

i believe you get what you give...

that is one of the things behind this grin.

go figure, i am so content now, so very happy -- there are honestly no problems with my life/relationship, no real worries. *shrug* even the $4,500 will be handle-able if it does not work out�there will be a way.

nothing is big/important enough to stop me from learning, progressing and excelling in what I wish to.

nothing.

not even you.