Tuesday, December 7, 2010


I am sick as a dog. I'm so sick, I can hardly sleep. My head is a giant throbbing balloon with razors flowing a steady burning stream through my sinuses. My chest is frozen in a corseted position filled with glass. And the only person who cares (beyond Belle) is Caity.
Caity is so kind, cleaning up my nasty snot rags, and she brought me soup yesterday.
I can see you from here. Sprawled across the bed. Taking every inch.
I hate being mad at you, but I fucking hate watching you sleep. "You Sleep all day"
Really? Because for a month I've been going to bed at 3 or 4am (because the baby would not sleep).
And today "if you weren't sick, you should have got up when I did."
"That's when most babies get up."
"Who? What babies?"
I AM NOT CANDYCE! I am raising my daughter just fine. I am so over this bullshit.
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