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Believe it or not, people don’t think of me as particularly brash.

Perhaps pessimistic but I’ve been called many a time “happy go lucky,” which is ironic and sad because I am not happy or lucky and I don’t like to go anywhere.

Or as Bryan would say, I’m only happy when I’m in my dark place. If I’m not in my dark place, Bryan says I’m manic. When I’m convinced I want a dog as big as me, Bryan says I’m manic…but encourages me just the same (fodder for his good time, you know). When I tell Bryan I have a new boyfriend after one date, he says, “of course you do, Manic One.” When I don’t stay in bed all day, Bryan says I’m manic.

I do not feel manic. I feel tremors. I’ve grown weary of roller coasters. I’d prefer a flat-line (except of course when I’m flat-lined, I hate it).

Brush my toes
Paint my eyes
Kiss my knee
Screw my neck

I’ll lick your knee
Kick your eyebrow
Cut your freckles
Lift your tongue

We’ll bark for fury
Rhyme the screams
Steal a happymeal
Dream la basura

SOB with me

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