drama

N tells story the same way as first time she told it to me. I could tell she had formulated the story to be told a certain way with certain words. On one level it's funny but then again it makes perfect sense.

One of the multitude of diagnoses I've received over the decades was "hystrionic personality disorder" I think that's the technical term for "drama queen"

Histrionic didn't follow me like depression did. I may have traits but I don't believe that's my nature.

On the unit one day, a nurse who is Cuban told me about how the hospital mis-handled a woman whose daughter was in labor.
"She wasn't hysterical. She was CUBAN."

like my loud Italian family, only...they were only emotive .... it was all or nothing. Either faint into a heap on the carpet, foaming at the mouth, or zip it. Maybe I just didn't get it. I could never get a word in edgewise.
I remember one afternoon we were driving away from "the house" where my Uncle Al, Aunts Gloria and Dee Dee and cousins Marianne and Donna lived. It was my father's parent's house, and the house next door. Delores lived in the original house (the maiden aunt gets to take care of the parents and lives with them forever and ever amen. I broke with that.) Albert and Gloria lived in a house they'd built when they got married, I presume, next door on the corner lot.

They made a sitcom out of the Sopranos. I can has stories to tell. M wants me to tell them.

She said my mother told her I was like a little adult when I was a child and she (my Mother) enjoyed talking to me. M's mother also died when he was 13. Did he want to be with his mother? Who died not like my mom, of cancer. shhhhhh

Back to N, K want's to fix her. I don't think she's broken. I mean no more than the rest of us.

I don't want K to die I'm scared. Fuck humans. Fuck relationships.