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and my hands look like old ladies' and I'm tired. God, I was a simpering wimp again - unlikable to my sister. I think a lot of it is that Paris was a long time ago. And her life is so the polar opposite of mine I don't know how to even compare.
I revved up my little car and took it back to base.
I notice that when I'm out of my comfort zone, boy do I have a hard time.
"we love you. we don't like you."
and I feel it. And driving down that highway it was like her in the truck.
Finally cried.
crying now.
the girl I used to be and the woman who betrayed her I am now...
leaving her with nothing but charity and slim threads.
self pity plummets down my cheeks and drops from my fiery throat.
all the mis-said - all the wrong said. All the adventure not had.
and thank god I have charity. it may allow me to survive.
the girl thought she'd ...
dunno - write, create, become discovered, act, famous...
she ended up in an office.
at least on paper, there's a master's degree if she can land on her feet,
get her head above water,
sin to be saved.
Here I am
and no urge to tread on the old days.... I'd done it once before - walked the beloved quad and so... but now, I just feel low.
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