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9:41 a.m. - 2004-11-10 Again. This time I'm trying St. John's Wort because I can't afford what the big pharmaceutical companies charge for their little happy pills. I don't want to take a pill to make me happy. But I've come to realize, I don't need it to be happy. I need it to be sane. I'm tired of waking up in the middle of the night worrying if my teeth are getting crooked on one side. "Oh my God, have I been laying on that side of my face ALL NIGHT? What if that side of my mouth has been getting too much pressure put on it? My teeth are going to shift. They're going to get crooked!" How fucking crazy is that? OR But that's not why I started taking pills. I did it because I'm turning into my mother. I loved my crazy, drunk mother with all my heart. I loved her after she killed herself. I still love her. But she yelled all the time at my sister and me. Then she would come into our rooms and tell us how much she loves us. Apologetic and tearful. Momma loves you. I really didn't mean to say those horrible things to you. You make me lose my temper. I won't be that person. I won't be the yelling mom. My husband is out of town and I've got pms. Valid reasons for losing your temper, right? I'm lonely, and bitchy and Chloe lied to me about her losing her homework. But I didn't have to lose my temper. I didn't have to yell at her and make her cry. So I'm not going to do it anymore. Momma's sorry baby. I didn't mean to yell. I love you more than I love my life. You are my gift from God. You are the only thing in this world that makes Momma question her lack of belief in God. I love your crystal blue eyes and your smiling dimpled cheeks. I wake in the night just to hold you. I love your little girl giggles and your silly questions about boys. I love the magic marker streaks on the coffee table because you are an ARTIST! I love the music blaring at 7am because you appreciate John Cougar and Momma taught you the words to Jack and Diane. I love your soft, little hand on my cheek. I love your wet little mouth kisses tasting like Halloween candy that you snuck from the candy bowl without asking. I love your grubby girl smell after playing outside. You complete me Chloe Violet. You make me happy in ways I'll never be able to express. Thank you baby. Mommy won't yell anymore. Except when you tell me a story about your homework.
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