I don't want a lot for christmas
2004-12-23 - 11:43 p.m.

The doctor thinks I've torn a muscle in my back. I went and got x rays today to make sure it wasn't spinal damage. I think it's healing now so I'm pretty sure my spine is fine.

Did I mention how I got this back injury? Obviously it was from a particularly steamy sexual encounter with a particularly hot guy, no wait, 5 particularly hot guys.

.... Lack of probability aside, ewww! Would you believe, I fell off an elephant?

Okay, what actually happened, was I SNEEZED. Which sounds like the least believable of the three in a way, but is actually what happened. I sneezed and my back completely cramped up and I fell on my bed which was luckily nearby.

I think it was a sneeze from god... I always get injured in the holiday season. Could it be that jebus has sadomasochistic tendencies? I'm so onto you, honey.

So the last bit over a week has not been particularly fun, especially when you factor in somehow catching a cold and the monthly arrival of blood. Like I had a big neon sign above my head saying "Pain park here".

This said, it hasn't been that bad. I know how to take pain. Come to think of it I could have taken some good old ibuprofen at any time... but I just didn't.

I should probably think about that later. But eh. I feel kinda good now. Cleansed. As if I've done my penance for things that were my fault this year. And I'm ready to start a new year.

Ouch. Okay not entirely ready yet, lingering back damage means this whole sitting-in-a-chair thing is still not comfortable, and I'm pretty sure I still can't reach down, and I'd really really like it if I could start 2005 with the ability to put shoes on my feet.

Many many many realisations have been had, but I s'pose they're more of the appropriate to december 31st variety... but the most striking of which is I am finally washing off the stench of desperation/disconsolation/distress I've had coming off me in waves in this here diaryland because of, well not really because of, but as a consequence of the excessive lovely x miss-age and overanalysing.

I'm stopping, okay? I'm sure that is to everyone's relief, everyone who has ever had a conversation with me was probably by now wondering how to get me some nice psychological deodorant.

Not that I'm letting go of the feelings that incited such crazyness, but um, I am resolving that when they come along I will not put a death grip on them... I will not clench so hard that I can get blood from a stone which I will not consequently use to paint my walls.

If that makes sense.

And missy higgin's scar is on the radio and I think somehow I've come full circle, full freaky little circle.

And doesn't it feel peculiar, when everyone wants a little more? And I want ... god, I want a lot more. Hah! More more more. More everything. More anything. Bring it all on. I have an appetite and I'm ... I'm not afraid to swallow.

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