On Friday I was in the car and I saw a mom walking down the sidewalk with a little girl, maybe around a year old--I don't know, old enough to walk well but still a tiny little body. The girl was dressed in a purple-pink snowsuit that was so big and puffy her arms and legs stuck out at unnatural angles like that kid from A Christmas Story. She waddled along, hardly able to bend her knees or elbows, and then she saw a big blow-up turkey decoration in somebody's front yard. She stuck her little hand through the fence and waved at it enthusiastically, and it was the cutest thing in the world. I got butterflies in my stomach from the cuteness.

As I thought about it, I realized that I wasn't so excited by a kid interacting with an inanimate object because I wanted a child of my own. The reason it seemed so special to me was because I still feel the same way. I still want to wave at happy-faced turkeys. I've never stopped believing that toys have feelings, and if I don't give them enough love, they'll be sad and lonely. Any time I see a sweet little creature look up at me with its plastic googly eyes, I want so badly to pick it up and squeeze it. I want to make it feel loved. My closet and the attic are filled with my old stuffed animals, and even though they're just taking up space, I can't get rid of them because they'll feel rejected. I can't betray them that way.

Most of the time, I reflect on my childhood and can only recollect how miserable it was. But I miss being friends with anything adorable.

I'm not doing particularly well in school this semester. Actually, I'm not sure if I'm going to get any A's. As much as I'm not the kind of person to fixate on grades, that's kind of depressing because it's never happened to me before. I've always gotten at least two A's on every report card, and almost always more. I guess I'll still be happy as long as I don't get any C's, because that's only acceptable in P.E. class. I just have to make sure I don't lose my scholarship.

If it's not apparent already, I'm a very paranoid person. I worry about everything, all the time. I still check my closet before I go to bed. I get panicky when I drive under bridges. I refuse to ride roller coasters anymore despite the fact that I love them. But right now my biggest worry is travel safety, and since Keith is going to be traveling for work twice a month, I'm probably going to have to give Xanax another shot. So many things can go wrong, and with such a disastrous result. If I have to let the person I love most go away from me out into the big scary world every two weeks, I need to be absolutely assured that nothing bad will come of it.

I can't think about these things anymore.

He said he wants a manly looking locket necklace with a picture of my clitoris inside. So maybe I'll browse for lockets.