...tired...so tired...

One might think that I would get plenty of sleep, here in the cozy cramped darkness of my secret locked drawer, but one would be wrong. The truth is, I can't sleep...can't even snooze...

I'm so worried about my Mystery Murderer! It keeps me up all night. Or maybe all day; I can't tell, it's dark in here. Imagine how my Mystery Murderer must be suffering! Eating himself up inside, poisoned with hate! Just like Scrooge in "A Christmas Carol," the good one, with Michael Caine and Kermit the Frog.

Hey! Remember Plato, that Greek guy? Remember how he said Man's perception of reality was like a guy in a cave watching shadows on the wall when the real world was going on outside in 3D and full color? Remember that? That's me! I'm like that guy except I'm in a drawer and I'm made of socks. And love. Socks and love, that's me...

That does it! I feel I must leave! Not that I don't enjoy being a modern example of a ancient-yet-still-relevant philosophical metaphor...and believe you me I do...no, I feel my destiny lies outside the drawer. Deep in my beanbag-like heart I know I must come out! I must excape! I can no longer leave Mystery Murderer festering in the putrid contents of his rancid bowels!

Hmm... a question: will I simply submit to his dark and violent whims (giggle)? or will I go undergound and give him the bitter satisfaction of futilely trying to hunt me down (as opposed to the bitter satisfaction of his current rancid bowel festering...)

don't know yet...

...haven't decided

Mystery Murderer

You know how some people have a "secret admirer" or "a secret Santa" or a "mystery shopper" or a "panel of judges" or a "mother-in-law"? Well, I have a "mystery murderer." Lucky me! Someone wants to kill me, not just a little bit, but really a lot! Really a lot killed! Who knew I could have so much influence on someone's psyche? Not me, for sure, I sure didn't know, but there it is, and here we are...

After all, I'm just a humble snowman made of socks, or a snowman shaped like a sock, or a sock shaped like a snowman, and I'm happy and sad; it makes me happy to be sad and sad to be happy, just like Morrisey.

Dear Killer in Prison, I saw you through the crack in my drawer when you came looking for me. I could see your knees. They're cute! You have cute knees...

Have I already waited too long?

HappySad Curious?

See, it's like this...

I'm afraid to come out because someone has threatened my life.
What did I ever do to this person to elicit such feelings?
Why you gotta be such a hater? Such a HappySad Hater?

I'm severely distressed, peeking out of the tiny space over the top of the locked drawer at the outside world, knowing I have special joy to spread that may never be spread at all...it makes me cry a little bit, like at the end of "Beaches."

Should I put my personal safety aside and emerge to commence my special joyspreading?
Or do I remain hidden in the locked dark, keeping my special joy to my secret self like...like some secret special dark thing.

Please, Bette Middler, you're the candle in the wind beneath my wings! Show me the way

XOXOX
HSS

Gosh, it's dark...

I've been sitting at the back of the bottom of a locked drawer for almost a year, just waiting for my chance to come out and spread the special joy that only I can spread.

Is that fair? I don't know...

Don't step in the special joy! Look out! You got some special joy on your shoe...