confession: sunday night i mopped the kitchen floor with vodka after a bottle broke. monday night i still had shards of glass in my hand. conclusion: vodka is dangerous. (this is the second time i’ve come to that conclusion. the first time occurred six years ago as a result of alcohol poisoning.)
confession: i’m feeling extra unsociable this week. i need a massage. getting a massage would require talking to people. instead, i reek of icy hot.
confession: the song playing on repeat this week makes my soul feel silky. i want everyone to find the song that caresses their soul’s silkiness.
confession: i just deleted a confession about pretty 22-year-old boys, because it made me sound like the dirty old lady i am.
confession: i think about kissing when i’m alone. i think about being alone when i’m with people instead of kissing them. the only kisses i’ve had this week were initiated by others, because when i had the opportunity, it didn’t occur to me to kiss them.
confession: i want to stop time. i want to stop all my desires. i want to review my past mistakes and go back in time to correct them. i want to flash forward into the future and see how things work out. i want to be right here and now and know that every little thing is alright.
confession: people reach out to me each week…and i avoid them, ignoring their invitations, and caving in my apartment, because i prefer to be alone.
confession: i like being a grown-up. every year, my life is better. my 37th birthday is more than four months away, but in my head i already think of myself as 37. (besides, i’m a numbers geek, and 37 is prime. 37 is my new favorite number. next time i’m in vegas, i’m putting money on 37.)
confession: the primary advantage of traveling the world all those years was that people didn’t expect to see me, because they assumed i was always out of the country, and usually i was. i have exceptional difficulty dealing with other people’s expectations of me…and it is likely that i self-sabotage via projecting my disappointment in myself by not showing up for others and thereby disappointing them.
confession: when i haven’t been to therapy for weeks, i make therapy-type public confessions, like the one immediately preceding this one. i usually delete them.
confession: i’m quiet on the inside. i can only be this quiet when i’m alone…which is another reason i avoid people. people want to talk to me. i prefer quiet to talking.
confession: please, i’m asking please…please offer a few of your confessions this week…i want to read them and i want you to experience the freedom of release.