long live the queen
August 18, 2003 � 8:12 p.m.

First Entry Today

Mood-Throbbing

The Crow-The Cure

"Do you two laugh at me behind my back...for how stupid I have been...how blind? Well, laugh when I tell you this, I loved you. And laugh when I tell you this, I love you still."-Original Sin

Recurring thought-If I hear one more "stiches" remark or joke, I will fucking scream.

A classic "What the Fuck?!?!" moment-Watching my mom walk around in the WaWa from the car and realize for the first time...my mom is getting old.

Parents aren't supposed to get old!!!

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So ha ha...the joke's on me.

Or at least, that's how everyone else sees it.

People see my finger and ask what happened, and even though I give them a less embarrasing version of events, they still find it necessary to crack some joke or make some off hand remark. I have a really good sense of humor and all...it's not what's said that's bothering me...it's how much I have to hear it. Worse part is, they always give me that "Awww poor baby" look, before they rip into me.

Bastards. They've just been WAITING for something like this to happen to me.

Anyway, I went to Jenny's Saturday night and washed my clothes. Cowboy was there and when he came downstairs and saw me admiring Jenny's curvy sacrificial dagger, he smiled and said, "Are you sure you should be handeling that thing right now?" and started laughing. Then Jenny startted laughing when she noticed what he was talking about, and in spite of myself, I started laughing too.

Our first post-mortem joke.

Even now it has me smiling...the asshole.

Jenny saw me thumbing through my journal, and she remembered how little space I have left to write in it. She went upsatirs and came flying down with the fucking coolest journal I've seen and offered it to me. She said it was hers, but she had only made one entry in it and she bought it a year ago, so she wanted me to have it. I was so touched! I really thought I was going to cry. It has a red chinese symbol for courage embossed on the front of it, a black velvet binder, and what looks to be black vellum designs on the rest of it. I want to keep her entry in it, because it marks when we all started to drift together and knit our little now dissolved couples group.

The beginning of what would be Jenny and Me.

How lovely.

I went to Deleware yesterday to see my momma. I thought she would flip about my finger, but she was pretty cool about it all, surprisingly. She wanted to take me food shopping, but when she saw my sneakers and how hard it was for me to put them on with this finger, she wanted to buy me some sneakers.

It was on this road trip that I found out that prime asshole number one, the sperm donor, is trying to cut off her child support. Ok...yes...I am way past the age, but my brother isn't as long as he is in school...and fuck, after abandoning us and never bothering to even try to make it up to us or at least build a new relationship with us, he OWES us that fucking money. I don't care if he found God or not, he still hasn't figured out how not to be such a flaming asshole.

Fucking Bitch.

I also found out that her job screwed her on her severence pay. She was supposed to get $7000 plus health benefits, but since she was only there for 2 years and 7 months instead of 3 years, she didn't qualify. What the fuck is that? How the hell is she supposed to survive when her car is fucked up, my dad is in the hospital, she can't afford her medicine, and the other bills are starting to pile up? And now, the only extra money she has coming in is the child support, and sperm donor wants to act a fucking fool and terminate it?

Yeah okay...he can try that shit if he wants to...I'll make it so he loses his job and his old ass bitch girlfriend...maybe his trumped up religion too. He knows I will...he knows I will make it my mission to fuck up his life if he fucks with ours.

I can't even write straight right now, I am so pissed.

The worse part is, I was watching my mom walk from the car to the store and it hit me like a rank smell on a 150 degree day...

my mom is getting old.

I never thought I would think of her as old. I mean, when we were young, she was this ageless, omnipotent entity to us. I rememeber when I used to hide so I could watch her leave for work...listening to the music her heels clicked against the floors as her perfume would undulate through the house when she waved and called out her goodbyes. She was so painfully beautiful she didn't seem real. She was like a queen to me. Untouchable, unattainable, unlovable, feared, and revered.

She still is my queen.

Vulnerable, frightened, attainable, regretful, lovable, admired, and transformed.

Age has mellowed her a lot and has mended some of the bad patches in our relationship, though I may be able to forgive the trespasses, I still can't forget them.

They made me who I am.

Ah...Libby Jean, the queen.

Through all the years, as I bounced between loving and hating her, I could never disregard the power she held over me and almost everyone she encountered, and I envied and admired that about her very much. She has a sense of survial no one can daunt inside her.

She is a tigress.

She is undeniable.

She is a timeless beauty.

She is my heart.

Long Live The Queen.