There is nothing like biting your lip until you get to the bathroom. There is nothing like sitting in the big "handicapped" stall with your skirt hiked up though you don't even have to go the bathroom. There is nothing like the open-mouthed but SILENT scream that is my face as I hunch over and hot tears fall down my neck, staining my shirt. I cry so hard I can feel my stomach muscles knot themselves, flex themselves. If I wasn't at work I wouldn't be so quiet. I would scream cry. I would moan and sob, but in the bathroom, I've got to pretend I'm just peeing. I think the constant nose-blowing gives me away, though.

Tommorrow it will be 6 months exactly since Sarah was so viciously taken off this earth. 6 months of what? Of my life being wasted? Not really. But I can't believe it's been 6 months. Time moves so slowly these days. I guess that's grief.I'm so sick of that word, grief.

In some ways it's gotten better. I don't feel quite as raw, but as soon as I even THINK THAT I AM NOT RAW WITH PAIN, the emotional vomit pushes its way up to my throat and I have to run, run, run to the bathroom, run anywhere to spew it all over the place.

I'm so sick of being this sad, half-broken, half-recovering person. I think I still have my sense of humor. Do I? Where is the girl from 6 months ago? Where is the girl from 1 year ago or 10 years ago? So much change and yet so LITTLE change. I hate change, I think. I'm terrified of it. I want to live the life of someone else, but I can't think of anybody else I COULD be besides me.

do the jerk * do the frug