Milk...

I don't know why, but when I'm crashing off into a numb-freaky-mode of not knowing what to do or care or anything, having a glass of milk centers me in ways nothing can. Seriously, I just drank nearly a quart, I was in such a fuck it all frame of mind...and now I'm almost back to being human.

Well...as human as I can be. I'm actually thinking of having a cheese sandwich, now. Which is a good sign. More dairy is never bad. And it does do a body good.

I know some people get all pissy about an adult made ingesting the stuff, but I'm of Norwegian stock and we was raised on that. There were times I'd drink a couple glasses of it for dinner instead of regular food. And I did fine. As fine as a weird little fuck can be.

And I was weird. Retard was a favorite word shot my way. Same for goofy. Which didn't happen much because I would not respond to them, and that was what they wanted. To see that they were hurting me.

They weren't. I didn't care what other kids said or called me. They weren't real, to me. Just gnarling creatures.

Anyway, when they started calling me homo, my first thought was they were referring to homogenized milk, because I was so pale. Which I thought was silly. Didn't know what it really meant till I'd graduated high school. And even then, I just thought it was dumb.

But throughout, if life was getting to me my center was having a glass of milk. I could face anything with that in my belly. And right now I feel ready for the world, again...

As fucked up as it is...