GOD FUCKING DAMNIT.

I can't stand this. I want cigarettes and alcohol. And knives. And GUNS. And lots and lots of plates to smash against walls. I'm ridiculous. I know it.

But when you find yourselves actually physically wrestling over the FUCKING BOTTLE and over who is putting the boy down for his goddamned motherfucking nap, you know life has taken a wrong turn somewhere or other.

I am SO MAD. I don't even know at what. Saturdays are supposed to be MINE. The day I get time to work--four hour minimum. 8-12, that's what I wanted. We have to leave the house soon and it's almost noon and the kid is still up and the girl needs to be fed and I haven't had a chance (except now but now I'm too too mad) to do anything.

I hate this. I hate that CERTAIN PEOPLE can't change fucking gear and give me a break. I think I might be talking about myself, even. I am so sick of these kids! I am not cut out for this mess!

Gah!

I miss the old me. The one who was lonesome (I guess I still am), but the one who went for long walks with Basho. I miss Basho (and he's right over there--but I've got nothing but ashes in my heart these days. No time or love to spare it feels like. So all I say to my darling dogs is "move." Hate myself).

The end.