I am the OZ...

My mom is fabulous! For my birthday she sent me post its that say "Just Dropped In." Ahhh...they have the picture of the house that killed the wicked witch of the west.

Also she sent me a mouse pad that says "Dear Dorothy: Hate OZ, took the shoes, find your own way home! Toto."

Funny thing is when I was opening my presents I was finishing a painting. It says "Oz Lost".

I love Oz.

Unfortunately, it does not exist.

The fabulous thing about me is Oz does exist...in my mind.

I finally did it.

I am now enrolled at LTTC. I didn't know that the culinary classes filled before May.

Now, I'm taking the worst of the worst, which is good for my culinary degree.

History. I love it. Civil War through WWII.

Art? Really? I get to learn how to paint again.

I have to also take PC. I chose weight lifting. I loved it when I was 19.

I'm scared. I'm really scared.

It's a new world.

Our landlord came and mowed our lawn...

I think he scared Jabbry away. It sucks ass because we haven't seen any mice or possums since he's been here. It makes me sad because I really like the little guy.

I put a can of cat food out last night and it hasn't been touched.

He makes me want a cat again but I'd rather try to tame him and save him then look for a new cat. Jabbry had style. I like that.

I hope he comes back.

Jarppy...

That's what my roommate and I have named the stray cat that has been lingering in our yard.

I actually bought it cat food tonight. It was starving.

It's a feral cat, an orange tabby. I think they are the smartest cats of all.

I know from my past that once you feed a stray cat, they always come back.

I thought I was out of my cat stage...DAMN.

He's a challenge, I've tamed three ferals and it's not fucking easy. I've seen him almost get hit by so many cars on our block.

If I can't tame him at least I can keep him out of harm's way in our yard.

I figured it out...I think...

It's not his fault.

"What happens when you die PawPaw?"

"Blackness."

I remember looking at the plum tree, it had the flowers on it and it was getting ready to bloom.

That's life and it was fucking beautiful. I had to concentrate on some thing pretty. I was 5 and I cracked when I was 7.

That lingering death has never left me.

I forgot about John or did I want to forget.

He came up in therapy on Friday.

He was a shinning star in our family. I adored him. All of us did. I wanted him to be my father. I guess the funeral made that impossible.

He put one bullet right though his temple...kaboom... He was serious.

He was fabulous and broke. Is money really that important?

I don't know if it was money or some thing else...I'll never know.

I hate therapy, it brings up every thing I want to erase.

Where is my pink eraser when I need it?

I weighed my self tonight...

119..that's not good. I'm shooting for 125.

I was so fat for so long...and now I can't gain weight.

2XX skirts. I was a heavy woman. Each butt cheek was the size of my head.

5.5....189lbs. I was fucking fat.

My whole life I wanted to be thin.

Now I' m to thin.

click...click...click...

Are you fucking kidding me?

Turn the key again and it will start. I knew it wouldn't.

I had pounds of laundry in the car...okay a ton.

I sat there...click...click...click...FUCK.

I tried to wake my roomate up to see if a jump would kick the starter. Nah. He wouldn't wake up.

This is why AAA is my best friend.

His name was John...he was really nice.

The simplest thing in a car that I over looked. It hasn't been driven in so long that the battery and the alternater weren't friends any more.

He connected the charger to the battery and the Monster fired up.

I did a ton of laundry and I have a date...heh.

I feel the need to do laundry...

Who said that?

My car is back. Oh how I love it.

2011 tags.

The Monster and me.

Heh...with the amount of laundry I have...I'll post again in 2017?

"You better sleep with one eye open"

He use to say that to me. I know this, I have lived this but when people start talking shit about it this is when I become a bitch.

Change my phone number they say. Done it three times. Cell phone twice.

The last option is to move. Guess what? I can't afford it.

So...what are my options? Restraining order? That's called a death sentence.

He once told me "I wonder what it feels like to kill a person."

Who thinks that?

I know that people think that I'm stupid for being with him for so long and some people think that I'm stronger for living through it.

I don't give a fuck either way. Take you opinions and go fuck your self.

This shit doesn't go away over night. I guess people think it does. I wish.

Yes...I still sleep with one eye open. This means I don't sleep even with sleeping pills. Always on guard.

I wish he'd just get it over with.

He always liked knifes.

the phone rang...

Me and my room mate were watching "Locked Up Abroad", fabulous show by the way.

After the show was over I checked the caller ID.

I love how the exquisite illumination of the phone had his name. (sorry...I felt the need to use big words and make them look pretty and spell them right)

Carrier, Vance

He left this message..."Hey India, I was just watching a show and it reminded me of you. Hope you are doing well...talk to you soon."

What?

For all the people that know me out there...I didn't call him back and I won't.

Guess what though...if i don't respond, I know his pattern...he'll keep calling.

I guess I have to watch my back again. That little bastard only tried to kill me 3 times...no...4, I lost count after that one.

I was just starting to feel safe. Not so much now.