I get pretty fucking dark a lot, as you see, but keep in mind I spend an inordinate amount of time alone, kicking around the dark corners of my own brain. Don works all night and I am still somewhat of an insomniac, though possibly not as productive as I’ve been when I was younger and more like rubber.

I am not going to let that leg go or let it get anywhere close to going–it might hurt like hell and oh it does with that whole clot busting antidote that fucked up more–but ultimately I am going to get taken out by a stroke and I know it. I don’t want to live past my consciousness at its peak—though clearly there are places and times people have woken up from comas, etc, but a stroke is a different kind of thing. I am going to do this thing to make sure it does not happen—diet water lots of things to keep it as flowing as it needs to be. Oh yeah. I know you wanna see what happens when a femoral artery gets fucked with well over half a dozen times now in a lifetime. Keep in mind the bruise continues left cutting my vagina in half, you guys, that is the dream I am fucking living.

https://scarsandhearts.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/groin.jpg


https://scarsandhearts.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/femoralarm.jpg

So that is my sexy and badass self right now. Ouch is right.

If you wanna know how I am remaining so calm throughout all this, I can thank my friend weed for being there for me for most of the past 2 decades now. I am not kidding you, if you are feeling like you’re fucked and nothing is fucking worth it and you’re sick of being in pain number one move to a place where that shit is legal, or two, visit my state. Both of my feet and legs now have issues in them and I do not want to lose them but all I can do is drink all the water I can and eat the blood thinning stuff to make sure I don’t stroke out here. And, of course, smoke enough weed to make it all so much better than it is. Today I bought some gummies and we’ll see how they work but right now, not impressed. Pain pain pain pain pain.

But then you’re high and the pain is not as bad and it burns a little sure, but all in all you are still letting yourself imagine a better life away from this place and all its hateful rhetoric and stupidity. And your cares totally evaporate as you’re high. Your brain goes from ouch that shit hurts, oh my god, get me out of here. Oh my God I am high. Can we figure it out? Will any of you buy my stuff? Ohhh. I am high. Thank god I am high. I can remember some good things about my life when I’m high, and imagine even better.

Not being high? I am going to die in a few months, shit I will never be able to work my way out of my hole to buy anything decent, I will never feel my leg again. These are, of course the more rational, likely outcome, but sometimes better to snow yourself than give in to certain ends. If I can do the things that nullify those statements, sure, but let’s admit. 20 years I have had which is more than most. 24 even, next year is 25. I have been so very lucky, and though there are misses I have endured because of this shit–I did have a lot of fun along the way–thank you Kristen and Lisa for being there for most of my funnest memories along with all the men I loved in that time. I cannot even remember all your names, that is terrible to admit, but their names were not the point. My twenties were the lessons, my thirties were the practice, and my forties are when I finally figured it out and if I am lucky enough to be afforded the 50’s, will come up with something even more qualifying once I get it.

I also promise you, my random spies, that my outlook has more hoping and dreaming than all of this bitching and screaming. More on that tomorrow.

xoxo