The description for these pills says they may cause drowsiness and upset stomach. That they increase the effect of alcohol and other sedatives. I just took two advil, two Alieve, and two of these little white pills... washed them down with a bottle of cider jack. My treat, to make up to my body for putting it through the good-for-it hell of a shake.

Do you know about the shakes? Nasty vanilla powder, or what would be vanilla if that particular flavor had been invented as a means of torture rather than a food additive. Icky stuff. I mix two scoops of it with pineapple cocoanut juice and drink it down, it is so thick and disgusting that I have to use a spoon.

I distract myself from the taste with computer games, with word games, with the promise of raspberry hard cider to follow if I can just down the last few bites... I didn't finish all of it. The thick clump of yellow goop at the bottom, I washed that down the sink. I can't bear to eat anything that looks so completely like rotting afterbirth.

Cheerful mental image, isn't it?

Now you see why I didn't eat it.

Anyway... I am drunk. Buzzed. And about to take NyQuill in hopes that it will help me stop hacking and coughing away, which also contains alcohol - my body had better be appreciative of the lengths I go to in my deathwish moments to make it feel good.

In a moment I'm going to log onto ICQ, hoping to see Rhett... he's one of the few people I can stand to be around when I feel this shitty. I trust him with my fragileness and my pain. I don't do that for many people. I don't WANT them anywhere near my pain, they will only try to bandage it, ignore it, call it foolish names and hope it goes away. He understands it, appreciates it, uses it... and then it goes away on its own, purpose served, and I am better for it.

Rhett is the only person who can hate me more than I hate myself, without driving me away.

Funny how that works.