Cinderella

I've noticed that the likelihood of me being up early in the morning after a huge, rowdy party, scrubbing and cleaning and rearranging, is directly related to how traumatic the party was for me. I cleaned the entire backyard and kitchen this morning before anyone else stirred- swept and everything. Last night was pretty fucking bad, then.

Hell, I've also noticed, is full of the happy smiling faces of new couples. It's your space, your safe space, with one of these ghastly sights beaming at you from every corner and room. It's having nowhere else to go, being forced to bite it back, to paste a grisly grin on in exchange, to endure. With no prospect of escape.