deserted

I am seriously in need of this Thanksgiving vacation.

I saw Jimmy a few weeks ago, and mom a week before that and Sara and Tom a month before that... and now- I am ready to take a break for the unrelenting LA weather and people and lifestyle and go home.

Where I can lay on the couch and pet the dogs and bake and see family and be alright with cranky grandma Kate.

Right now I feel like I am itching to get out of my skin- that this body isnt mine anymore and I dont want it. I want mine back. I want my hair to be shiny and my eyes to be bright. I dont want the dark circles and the sags and the lack-luster skin. I would like to be regular 22 year old me.

Instead when I am back to Kate- I'll be 23. A whole year older, none-the-wiser and a lot more disgruntled.

I am sick of this nonsense.


I miss having a life. I miss my family. I miss weather. I miss sleep. I miss Jimmy. I miss feeling young.

You know that scene in "Prelude to a Kiss" where the old man is in Meg Ryan's body and is standing at the ocean and yells, "It is wonderful to be young!".

Well, I get it right now, too.

All the aches and pains, all the sleepless nights, the dizziness, the exhaustion, the difficulties with simple tasks; opening jars, using a can opener, coordinating medicine with meals and every little mundane detail that I can no longer take for granted.

Instead- I am forced to be sore, tired, grey-skinned and slow.

I am not used to it. How much my hands hurt after using a screw driver. How hard it is to actually stay awake at night. How hard it is to stay asleep in the morning. How often I actually have to remember to take fiber and vitamin C and D and B and E and Iron and Potassium... and the list goes on.

I feel old. I look old. My skin has no elasticity... I will be an ugly old lady. Sag'in bag'in Kate. Only I wont have an airplane in my pants.