Where are you when I have my head down a toilet?

April already? Holy Shit. I've been abandoned. By her. Already. Not by the old girl she never goes away - old faithful, a true stayer. Even though she had been given the marching orders. She sat outside, patiently, curled up on the mat. Peering in. Now and then. Finding a window. Like a naughty puppy, creeping back in, low to the ground, the master has forgotten, she doesn't even remember what she was angry about. I'll just show off the cute, fun side and it will be ever so natural to take up my regular position, in the corner of the room of her life. And where did she go? The new girl? Fucking holier than thou bitch. Butter wouldn't melt. "It's all going to change, everything will be right this year". The perfect life. What's stopping you. Me. Us. The blog. The Surfing. The Diet. The body. The temple. The Zen. What's stopping you. Fucking April is what stopped me. You. My dear. Where are you? Gone. Again. Typical. You never were a stayer, I told you - couldn't even commit until May. You pissed off already. Leaving me. With what? The pinots, the processed food, the sav blancs, the ciggies, the recycled fling, the regret, the toilet bowl - old faithful holding my hair back reminding me that this is what life is this fun - it's good she is gone the only thing she was stopping you from was living the good life. But you've called. haven't you? Disappointment laced between the notes of your voice. Offering Peace. Reconciliation. We can work it out. Can we? We made a date. Tai Chi, Meditation maybe a walk. On Sunday. Yeah Sunday. See if we can... Well we'll see. She says it will all change. When I least expect it. She could disappear. again. Leaving me. Alone. In tears. And old faithful. Pouring another glass of wine.