Henry Rollins once said something about feeling “like I’d been punched in the chest with a Buick.” I can identify with that.
Things are happening that I choose not to discuss here. Mainly because it is hard to be vague about something that I can't even find words to explain. There is stress and fear and...well...more fear.
So, tonight...I resorted to Strongbad. Yes, Strongbad. Because...really, when I am scared or confused...all I need is a little, "You're a giiiirl...or maybeee a waaaagon, filled up with pancaaaakes." Okay...so I resorted to rum too. What? Shut up.