tavie.com

So much for that whole sleeping thing. No matter how sleepy and comfortable I get, it's just not happening. And I know Gina is up there laying awake, because she went to bed early with the beginnings of a migraine and she hasn't been sleeping well, anyway. I wish she'd give up trying to sleep and come down and watch a video with me. But maybe she is asleep. I hope so.

I tried the whole staring-at-the-dark-ceiling thing, but it wasn't happening. Keep seeing burning paper and felt the distinct and undeniable urge to listen to "Midnight Radio", so I am now. Actually now I'm listening to "Nailed", the next song on the movie soundtrack, because I really love it. It fits with my whole sexy-Jesus fixation really well.

Let's talk about nail polish. My main reason for putting it on is for the pleasure of chipping it off. It rarely lasts more than a few days on me. The last bits I have now clinging to my fingers is the remains of Kitana's from when she was here two weeks ago. It's sort of pearly mauve. Every time I start to chip it off or head for the acetone I find that I cannot. It's irrational and probably some sort of symptom of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but I can't help it. It's like wearing some of Kitana. I put it on when the world was still a comfortable place to live. Before everything fell apart. I can't remember clinging to nonsense so fiercely since I was ten and in the hospital and kept a store under my pillow of every single dried, twisted, crumbling, used-up tissue that my mother gave me while I was in there. (I really cried when a nurse found them and threw them out, too. Like somehow I was betraying her. That's how removing the nailpolish feels; that exact feeling. So I don't.)

It's not going to stop...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:55 AM | shower me with attention