joys of PMS

when I cried driving home from a family dinner, I knew it was PMS rearing its head. I refer to it as though it is an alien entity that randomly takes over my emotional state once a month, but the truth, and it is true, is that the extreme perspective which expresses itself is no less than my deepest feelings emerging.

The rest of the month I just have a better handle at hiding what I truly think, feel, believe, from others and probably from myself.

I tear up just writing this.

I around look for things to care about. I look to things, people, places, movements that I have liked, books, ideas...to little avail but to depress me further than I am already slouching.

The only thing that makes sense to me, the only two things, are my cat and when I am walking in the woods on the mountain listening to the breeze rustle the leaves. These things just are, there is no asking why or what for, and so I just appreciate them, enjoy them for the sheer experience of them.

I watch my cat flinch her skin the way I would raise an eyebrow.

I've come in, stage left, with talents and abilities and little motivation to follow any of them to a rendering. A pied-piper of goodwill, yet to what end?

Katie may have been right, maybe I am just a salesgirl, and a good one so much so that I've bought my own product, only I've paid myself in monopoly money and the product no more manifest than Plato's ideal table.

I can't tell if I care too much, or not at all, I just can't tell.

maybe a rootbeer float will help. or 2.