black sheep on sesame street.

internet went and came, it will probably soon be gone again,

for the last few days there has been a thunderstorm a brewing

but i'm here on my bed with the freshly covered in the scent of soap. Pure mexican bath water is drenching my hair; the jet black cylindrical filaments are braided messily to the side.

The pit of my stomach is erking me again. it's uncomfortable; follows me everywhere.

i can't control it; well maybe i can. i just need to take those gotitas de flor, that the kind young doctor gave me and i should be okay.

i should be okay. i hope to be better than okay. i just need to take the first step., but i'm scared.

i've always been a scaredy cat, always been afraid of every little thing, even of the black sheep on sesame street. sounds racist, but don't take it the wrong way.

take it in the way that i shouldn't be scared of such an innocent sheep, that the sheep was actually really kind and i never gave it a chance. i never gave any thing a chance, when everything in front of me was good all along. and that's where my problem started, and has haunted me until this day.

even though i'm in the victim in this scenario, i'm also the bad guy. or bad girl. however you'd say it.

but i just don't know how to go from here. not in this same situation. it's just the same thing over and over again. the doctor tells me the same. a little of what he says helps me but most of it does not. but i guess you have to do a lot in order to get a little. maybe i should learn to learn that.

(Half and hour later):

i just had my gotitas, and they were yummy. and my sandwhich was yummy and i danced, and the bad feeling is gone. almost. because your words came into my head as loud as the brightest red i've ever seen