Venting

I was living the charmed life until that altering February day... I had my own place, a big kid job, I had a great daily grind going and weekends I was in Chicago or Madison going out with friends and my boyfriend.  Hollywood would have cast me as your average 23 year old. 


I still am the average 23 year old.  I think I am wiser than I am; my twenty-something world is small.  But it's my world and it has caused me to retreat to my old bed - crying.  I am crying because I am so overwhelmed by fears and angers that are HUGE and small.  For example, I can't cheers my friend for finally landing that job.  I want to go out to a bar, play darts and eat the popcorn.  Yet I have bigger things to worry about.  I am scared of what this disease may take away from me.  I won't open that door because it's too heavy, but it does make missing the beer seem obsolete.  However, I still feel hurt since I am out of the loop from my friends.  Melancholy was always the bonus word for teenage angst poems, but I now understand the word.  I am blocking myself off a bit.  I also catch myself acting like a crotchety old fart, complaining away in conversations.  I don't know what to talk about with people.  I was never a master at small talk, and I do not see that happening soon.  I want to hear about everyone's lives but at the same time, it hurts to know what I am missing.


It's time to quite typing.  I am sad, bald, red-eyed but my shoulders are a bit lighter.  Whew.  So now it's time to change my mood.  

I am suffering from a serious case of hair envy, so I am bringing you down with me.  Who would not want Kate Hudson's hair??