Vanilla Nyquil

I boasted. I participated in self indulgent words. I bragged. It was innocent enough, I swear, all I said was this, "Well, I haven't been sick in so long I can't remember."

The statement that sealed the kiss of death.

If that moment had been a movie, the phone would have rang immediately and a sinister voice would have whispered in a snake like voice...."Seven daysssssss" (my nod to the movie ~The Ring)

I should admit, in my most delirious fever induced moments this week, I did some irrational blaming. I thought of the woman who sneezed next to me in the store last weekend. The man who touched the ATM machine before me while hacking up a lung, etc. etc........

Oh, and I even thought of all you AOL journals people whom I'm visited lately who were sick. Can you catch the flu via Internet? Just another form of virus right? Was it you Deb? Or you Mary? (p.s. I do hope you are feeling better !)

If thats the case, everyone's phone should be ringing......right about now...seven daysssss.......don't say I didn't warn you~

I'm higher then a kite right now. I'm on a Nyquil overdosed ride induced by too many doses in a 24 hour period. This is evidenced by a shaking brain, weary body, hyper thoughts and a deep desire to pass out, but can't. Since I have already used up all my sympathy cards with the family, I decided to come write here, Nyquil style. Lucky You.

There is only one person who knows me 3-D style, knows what I look like in the flesh, what my voice sounds like, how I talk, move, and carry myself in the real world, that has read this online journal. This person remarked once, that what I write here is all Vanilla. Meaning, I only skim the surface of who I am, what I am about, what I'm willing to talk about. I keep it simple and sweet, like Vanilla. The friend was right.

I've also noticed, as time marches on, I've tightened my thought strings even more then the original Vanilla statement from my friend. This is really starting to annoy me. Something changed, at some point in time, and I'm not sure what happened, when it happened, but it did. The strange and unexplainable writing goes elsewhere now. The issues I tumble around in my mind stay safe on paper.

Damn, this journal is like a marriage gone bad. I started out posting regular entries, like newlyweds have daily bed romps. I used to communicate with it's blank possibilities and felt good about it, and now, I'm like a cranky wife who clamps her mouth shut and says, "I'm fine" and talks about furniture. So sad.

I wish, it was like it used to be, when I would sit down and write things and not give a fuck what it sounded like. Hmmm, a bit like that sentence. I need a journal adjustment. Or journal counseling. A fresh start. A redo. A do-over. A makeover.

I want to sneak back out of my shell and cover the vanilla with some delightfully dark chocolate, some sinister cherry sauce and toss some candy adornment on whenever I feel like it. I want to touch the tender walls of my own individual mentality again here. The good, the bad and the unexplainable.

So why type all that out instead of just doing? Personal accountability. A person like me needs a touch of concrete to motivate in one direction. Does any of this matter to anyone who may be bored to tears reading this? Nope, but thats the point :o) The manifestation of my silent nature is slowly eroding my mood through time, and I've recognized the need to open up once and for all. Good luck to me.

If I don't, I suppose I could blame this lapse in protective judgment to the Nyquil and fever. Then again, I never did like excuses of any sort, nyquil included. Time is the ultimate judge of all things~~