Oh, the hours I put into the post the was just sort of lost. I've travailed eons to write again, it was so long it would have bored anyone.

I do not know how it was deleted, I know it was something I did, but I did not press any keys; I'm dealing with a 'touch pad,' which I really fucking hate.

Well, it's gone. So we're now left with a pissed off me who has not only expressed herself eloquently and gently but then DELETED herself and does not understand how.

Ah, well. We'll just do a brief recap. We'll skip the parts we can. I must admit, the deletion I inadertently delivered has made me want to run from writing anything. Should I save, write, save, write, I'm not computer savvy.

Ok, there was a whole more before this before I let my wrists wrest. Fuck me. I have tried to abstain from writing, I have focused myself wholly and only upon my kids and my clinic.

princess delivers her blows from across the river, pee does them from the basement. How many ways, how many times can I die? I run outside to the moon as much as I can, I do.

But you can't fly away, and for every moment you steal, you will pay triple, trust me.

So I've tried to to keep my feet on the ground and see only what is before me, but my god, it does hurt.

pee wanted his hair cut. Intuitively I knew he was stoned. But I have sworn off vicarious parenting. When I went to change the laundry, the basement was full of light wafts of some expensive variety of pot. Maybe my ex would know. He prided himself on certain accounts.

I told my husband that he needed to tell princess sooner rather than later that her stupid stinking twat needs a paying job. Maybe two or forty?

She has extorted thousands of dollars from his relatives, we found out a week ago. Fucking stinking twat. Guess what her fare to inner hell for them was? How awful we are, yes.

She haunts my nightmares still. I have never had anyone hate me befoer they knew me, and hate me still more after they did. My last nightmare consisted of her ripping a huge pink flouncy robe from my bathroom hook and running off with it. I do not wear pink, I buy no pink, I was born with it and do not feel the need to need to buy into any company's need to market pink to me. priness, on the other hand, is obsessed with Victoria's Secret and "pink." She has even explained to her dad, my husband, two in the pink, one in the stink, all I can think of Regan in the Exorcist, your cunting daughter. In the nightmare, she put on what was my robe and ran with it, I chased her, she devolved into a chaos of a teenage party, I grabbed the shouler of my robe before she was too far gone and grabbed it back.. I said, "You're pink is slipping." She looked back at me and said, "It will never slip completely."

I have taken a now rare detour from my focued attention. I am in so many ways starving. I almost deleted this, and there is a breeze coming in from the windows.