the walls are painted something between peach and pink
looks warm
i'm in a crib
through the cool white bars to my left i see mom
the dark wood vanity
Noxzema
i make a small noise that i've learned means "I want some fucking milk!"
mom leaves
i have a clear view of her mirror on the wall
the mirror contains deep thoughts of reality
the complexity frightens me
i should look away so i won't be forced to think about mirror universes
anxious
mom returns, interupting my view and thusly, my thoughts
mom gives me a bottle
it's sour
i don't know the word i should use to tell her, "Bitch, this shit is rancid!"
i say "hot"; a word i do know to express "Bitch, I can't drink this!"
she takes it away and returns to her make-up
she's mad
she should be
i'm stupid

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just another day log. move along now...