Hello again! Well, aside from the psychological stuff (which I wish I could blame on this whole ordeal, but we both know better than that), I am almost 100% recovered from the surgery, taking care of myself and in only minimal discomfort. I had a follow up with my doc before Christmas and here is what he told me:

Detailed pathology of the cyst has revealed that it is “borderline”–neither benign OR malignant. Based on their findings, they could not determine whether the cyst was ovarian or intestinal in origin–it had both kinds of tissue (thankfully no teeth or hair, because I wouldn’t even want to touch myself after something like that). This means they want to do a bunch of tests to make sure I don’t have any intestinal cancers or cysts. They also want to remove my appendix (I guess this is something routinely done in women with ovarian cancer during surgery but they didn’t do it during mine because they were so sure it was benign at first glance). So I have an appendectomy scheduled January 15th! Yay! Who knew I could achieve my ideal weight simply by having one internal organ removed at a time? I am out of Ativan and have eight more days until the refill is good.

On the upside, this surgery is far less invasive than the previous one, and all of this (as I understand it) is precautionary.

Now here is a hastily-written poem that is about a city. No, it is not actually a thinly veiled boypoem! I am SO sure.

Ok, maybe it is, but it does work both ways. I’m branching out, one shitty metaphor at a time.

Tinsel is a Choking Hazard

Hollywood
I hate you
your heart
is a black eye
caked in makeup
and shielded
by over-sized glasses

Hollywood
I hate your
terrible dialogue
your transparent motivation
your
weak character

It makes me nauseous
just catching a whiff
of your boulevards
and no matter how far I go
I can still smell you
I can still hear you
I can still feel you faking it
and I can still believe you

in spite of everything I know
and knowing better
I still believe you
and sit entranced
popping kernels into my mouth
waiting for a resolution
that never comes

refusing to believe that a Hollywood ending
just means selling out
or
giving up
and moving on
defeated

p.s. I promise it’s not as bad as all that, but I haven’t written in a while and have a lot of pent-up negativity I’ve gotta expel. There’s like six more from tonight, and this was the LEAST dark.