As If I Could Really Give a Fuck

Yes it is.

I'm frustrated to no end.

My day... my week...

Thanks but no thanks.

Too little too late.

Come to me stop making me go after you.

Patio is comforting to me now, and I liked going there last night. I was in a good mood. The subway still thrills my senses. So much to look at. I prefer standing. Listening to Nick Cave and his Bad Seeds and watching freaks and fairies and fashionable youths as though I were in my own rock video.

Today I dressed myself with more care than usual. Used all the head-to-toe personal-care products I have instead of simply soap+shampoo+deoderant.

This is for my benefit.

Were someone to have sought out my neck

smelled my hair

snaked an arm around my waist

they would have known the benefit.

I felt pretty without anyone touching me, or telling me.

But it would be nice to not do all my own affirmation, since I'm the one doing all my own everything.

Tylere told me I looked good one time.

Once.

It was halloween and I was dressed in [my own vintage] grunge clothes. It was "Michaela a la 1994".

Army-green cargo pants cut off just bellow the knee, soccer-socks up to my knees, Doc Marten's, band t-shirt and flannel.

He was serious. Whatever it takes, I didn't mind, I loved that look in his eye of looking at me and being struck with the opinion that I was hot.

That's the only time it happened, though.

He's of the opinion that if he tells you something, then it's true.

And it remains true.

When it changes he'll tell you.

So I'm supposed to think he thinks I'm pretty even though he never says it.

Because he said it once.

I need to school to start so I can addict myself to it and stop thinking about all the faggot-ass boys who creep up into my life.

After I've earned this degree.. number three... and then maybe number four...

Maybe then I'll find a man who's manly so I don't have to be.

I'm so stressed out tonight by the kids. And their parents. But I'm not going anywhere, not leaving the house, becuase I'm too stressed out.

The little boys told me tonight that I'm one of the guys.

I told them that doesn't mean they can't respect me like a woman.

I was trying to make them stop using the phrase "sucking cock".

hahaha

They're twelve, and I'm just the nanny, like I could stop that train.

As if I don't say "cock" all the time.

That reminds me... I need to email KC Kisinger.