Weak

Silent night, broken night
All is fallen when you take your flight
I found some hate for you, just for show
You found some love for me, thinking I'd go
Don't keep me from crying to sleep
Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, moonlit night
Nothing's changed
Nothing is right
I should be stronger than weeping alone
You should be weaker than sending me home
I can't stop you fighting to sleep
Sleep in heavenly peace

Damien Rice/Lisa Hannigan

I'm so weak.

I can't stay away from Blogger.com.

I can't stay away from apple cake with brown sugar and cinnamon.

And I most certainly can not stay away from the drug formerly known as jailbait.

I should be stronger. (...) The masochist inside me is convinced that I'm in control of the situation, that I can walk away without a second thought. The realist inside me is wearing a questioning frown which is occasionally exchanged for a wild giggling sequence.

God damnit, I forgot my point. Well, here's a shamelessly faux-mysterious update on the secret side of my life.

Why am I so giddy? I ought to be depressed at the mere thought of this situation. Oh, I know. My fallopian tubes are vibrating. Hot. Piece. Of. Ass.