La douleur exquise

I'm not sure how to muddle through these clouded thoughts. I feel like I need to be able to think about myself and my recent behavior but I can't. It's really tough to continue taking my meds, but sometimes my hand hurts so bad I just want to drown myself in vicodin. Nonetheless, I don't like where I've been ending up. 'You wake up at SeaTac, SFO, LAX. Pacific, Mountain, Central. Lose an hour, gain an hour. This is your life and its ending one minute at a time. If you can wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?' The words are being whispered into my ear as they slip from the pill bottle I just popped. Its an eerie concept.  What I want, what I need, what I desire, and what I fear all seem to be a jumbled up mess.  My feelings are being coagulated and stuck in the receses of my mind, never to make it to my surface.  My meds are imprisoning me no doubt, but its a padded cell with three square meals a day.  How bad do I want to get out?
Where is my fairy god-mother when I need her! I am not making smart decisions about how and where to let my heart wander.  I'm an open-minded girl looking for love, but having fun in the process.  But how much is too much? I hope I know when to slow down before I just get myself in another wreck.  My intention is not to hurt anyone, especially myself.
I had to cut my hair even though I really didn't want to.  I didn't really have a choice though; I can't take care of my long hair properly with only one hand.  But maybe having short hair again will be fun.  Last time I had hair this short was the same time I had black hair last.  A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...  I look a lot skinnier with this cut, and thats great. Next time I want to lose some pounds I will just cut my hair.  More pie for me!  All is good as long as I look good.  Sexy is the thing I try to get them to see me as after I win them over with my personality, and a hearty home cooked dinner.