Day 270 3:08 A.M.

So really I'm at 9 months sober. And boy are my arms tired!!! Haahahaaaaaa. And big sigh. My manager at work always makes fun of the fact that I laugh really hard and then sigh the biggest saddest sigh afterwards. It kind of sums me up as a person. Things crack me up - I laugh hysterically and then I remember the never ending pit of sadness inside me. Well - um - I have nice boobs even though they are lopsided. One whole entire size difference and on a bad day a size and a half. One time I went to Victoria's Secret and got measured and this big giant black security gaurd lady measured me and she was like (REALLY loud) "girl you got ONE BIG BOOB - like one big boob. Okay - we are going to have to work with that." It was great - fun times. Why a security gaurd was measuring me I have no idea and for all I know she just had on a horrible outfit - either way I have worn padded bras for years because this woman told me to because I would look better. Not FEEL better - LOOK better. Um - go F yourself security guard lady - now I wear (the one that I own) a not padded bra because it feels better and I don't give a hoot if I have lopsided boobs. Because for all intents and purposes they look great. One on one they are awesome. So suck it lady. Whoa - why didn't I just leave and get measured somewhere else? Part of my life problems - stuckness. I think I can't leave, move, change, look away - walk away - say no - say yes - say ew. I feel so often like I am sitting on a volcano. Just always trapped. I always felt trapped growing up. I couldn't have, say or do what I wanted so I just sat there. I didn't have it in me to be a rebel really so I was just a nothing. How pathetic is that? I am sensitive and I don't like to much noise or too many people or - drama. Ha - in or with other people. Me it's fine. So I totally couldn't be the crazy wild maniac child - f that. I just didn't do my homework and read books and watched TV. Wow - way to REBEL. That is so f-ing bizarre. And sad. The only subjects I did well at in school were reading and writing. Always. Always? I don't know - in high school and when I went to college my teachers were always using my writings for examples and saying how much they liked them and I always got A's. It confused the shit out of my parents. I'm a confusing person I guess. I feel like crying. I feel like I got swept under the rug. Or shoved behind the bookcase. Or - or left on the mantle and got really dusty. Like a recipe that almost got made but stopped halfway through. Worse - a cake that got made but never frosted. Jesus - I am PATHETIC. I just have that same feeling now and I wich it would change. I always felt to old - to whatever to do what I wanted and like the time had passed me. And I feel that way again. Argh - and I know it's not true. Last night I got home and I thought to myself - it's not true. There is still time for me to do whatever I want to do. Like if I do it in my 40's it doesn't count?? BULLSHIT. Jesus. I'm just staring to rumble and - I don't know. Get stirred up and my energy is frenetic and it's not directed. And honestly I think I have to put on a bigger cap and think differently. The answer isn't going to be what I ever thought the answer was before. It's fine if I'm frustrated and I should feel that. But I have to back off of a total contained package answer. But I do want to be creative. I honestly yearn for that. I'm getting tired. I want to paint and dance and sing and let it OUT. Happy Memorial Day and you look great in the middle of the night blog. Super super sexy. I look your pjs. Nighty night blog of love!!