where are my words?

it's quiet today. clutter clutter clutter. doom and gloom but, really? today feels like one of those stretch-my-legs-lie-in-bed-stare-at-my-ceiling kind of days. it's glorious.

quiet quiet quiet. you me us them. we are so quiet. have we nothing to say anymore? we are all out of words.

to preserve this face, i found more creams to pile on top of my skin. the more layers between you and the sun, she said, the better. you will mock but when i am fifty and look thirty, and you are haggard from your days of unhealthiness, who will be the victor then? i don't want to think about being fifty.

"congratulations on all your accomplishments. god bless you."
no thanks.

what is sometimes worse than a poorly worded compliment is one that is entirely vague and fragmented. what accomplisments? i am not sorry i didn't pop out a child and thus ruin my entire life. "oh don't worry, it took me to forty to have kids so you've got awhile yet." you are a nurse and yet you didn't connect the line from having children after thirty-five to having a child with a disability. stupid stupid stupid. no i don't want the life you are throwing at me. it's ridiculous and futile. i'll have parties once a month for being so awesome and not following your rules. it's selfish and so vain i can't barely stand it but hey! i rock. no big deal.

we have no more words for each other.