~Don’t forget to flush

I don't like it when I can't get my head to the place it needs to be in order to write. Sometimes, I think that I write easiest while hiding where people can't find me... in a book with a lock on it. Yet, here I am on an open blog, attempting to.

I remember, when I was about 10 or so, hiding in the bathroom. I think that the bathroom didn't have a lock on the door, and that alone freaked me out. I used to go in there, sit on the floor, in front of the door, and do my "rituals". I had a white box. It was an old white purse which had belonged to my (step)grandmother. It was basically a box, covered in white patent leather, with cheap metal chain as the strap. I removed the chain, and turned it into my personal box... where I kept my holy things.

Writing in my diary was part of the ritual, but too was reading/murmuring passages from the Old Testament... the ones you're supposed to say every day, or so I was told, in order to be a good person, safe from the wrath of God.

So, the bathroom was the place I went to protect myself, and express myself, thanks to my own back.

Sometimes, where you have to go in order to protect yourself, smells like shit.