Dissatisfaction

 Fiorella is going through all her old papers, some of which even date back to junior high, and is flabbergasted by how much she wrote--and saved. To tell the truth, her observations were pretty damn good too. But--ho hum--she got some minor recognition back then and along the way, but never made the big time, which has always been the story of her life. Damn--somewhere along the line, she needed a wild-eyed fan who had connections and could ballyhoo her. GRRRRRR!

 

 ANGER

I'd like to burn a building down

Or shoot somebody from a tower

To let them know that I'm alive

For just an hour--ah, for just one hour

 

Fio has a chocolate hangover. Yesterday evening, she got upset and gulped down a whole bag of Dove milk chocolate, then paid for it all night long.

This may be a difficult day--your girl has to beard a couple of doctors' assistants because (1) she's pretty much certain they've messed up what days and times she should come in to get her new pacemaker checked up on and (2) they seem to have forgotten that Fiorella has told them that it's impossible for her to stick a needle into herself (or anyone else).

One good thing about waking up early with a bad stomach is that Fio has plenty of "alone time" to mull over the life choices she's made. Oops--scratch that. Not all of those "life choices" were good ideas and it would make her cry her to revisit them.

Wondering how many people are reading Fiorella every day now, or if she's just writing a diary to herself. Ah, for times past when her audience--usually in the 200s to 300s--was counted and displayed. Interestingly enough, her followers were mostly from overseas, which intrigued your girl all the more. 

As a final note, Fio reminds you that before stupid Blogger forced your girl into its "new and better" edition, she could write out her poems without having to double space.