|The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.)||The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.)||The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.)|
P to the M to the S
One of the nicest things about getting older is that my periods are shorter and less crampy and angsty. Maybe it's just that I'm used to the blood fount on a twenty-eight day cycle? Maybe it's that the hormone profile is changing. The worst part is the PMS, which is like having a brain parasite. Night before last, I thought I'd go crazy if I didn't have sugar. I didn't have sugar, of course, and I didn't go crazy, but it was like having a jackhammer applied to my skull. I couldn't focus on anything while The Brain was begging me for sugar.
And I feel mean and nasty and petty and angry. I feel like strangling people. I feel like telling people exactly how stupid they are. I feel like writing nasty letters to the editor. I feel like voting republican.
Don't get me started on quad-boob. Don't get me started on the crazy hormones that make me want to puta up and go out trolling for a good hard fuck. Don't don't don't get me started on those demons. Those demons are locked away nice and tight until I hit menopause.
All I want is a nap. A nap and a giant bar of chocolate.