tis the season to be jolly

i'm not jolly. i bloody miserable and this idea that i have to be around people, smiling and faking and pretending i give a shit about life. makes me want to run and hide.

"hi how are you?"
"fine thanks, you?" and i've got to pretend to be happy and appreciative of life and happy to see them, happy to be there interacting with people.

when what i really want to say is i'm shit actually, life is one fuckn' big joke, i hate it, and i hate having to pretend i'm having a good time. and i don't give a shit how happy you are and that you can't relate to me coz i can't relate to you and i'm sick of pretending.

i'd love to be able to go up to people and when they ask me how i am i can turn around and say i'm shit actaully and i don't want to be here making small talk with you when i feel this shit.

ah.... fuck it....

daddy

who's your daddy. yes daddy. something about the word, being said to a man by a woman, or to a woman by a man. makes me cringe.
ain't noone my daddy except my daddy and that's not how i talk to him or think of him.

don't want some man to be my daddy coz i'm a grown woman, and i don't want to be his mamma. we move out of home for a reason and parents don't love children in that way ok.

sanchez

julio sanchez with his shirt off is the best episode. get to see the character behind the man, the arms, the masculinity. the acting. he breaks down crying in the end and there is something immensely appealing about a man who can act that out on screen. like wow. a tear or two is shed along with him. i want to hug him. soothe him. let him grieve in my arms.

then maybe make out with him if the feeling is mutual when he's recovered.

the sleazy doctor

i was 16 at the time. really sick with tonsillitis. had to force myself to go to the doctors, walk there 20mins one way. in my condition it took way longer. get there, see the doctor. he takes my temp, does the stick on the tongue thing, checks my ears and my chest. instead of putting the stethoscope on my back he puts it on my chest. i didn't have a bra on. i was too sick to do anything but throw on some baggy clothes and go. i lift my top part way, like above my navel and he tells me to lift it higher. i move it up about an inch or two. i see him try to bob his head low to look up, realise he can't do it without being obvious. part of me is thinking he's a doctor he's seen it all before. that's what they always tell us. so it's no baggy if he did get a look. anther part of me is thinking i hope he can't see my boobs. off i go home with a prescription for penicillin. ages later some mothers in my neighbourhood tell me he was removed from the surgery for inappropriate behavior towards female patients. docs like him make me sick. sleazy bastard.