down and out in Atlanta

Sitting here on a Friday night, watching goddam Dr. Turner do his usual Friday night fucking bowel resection---this fool only has call through Friday night so you know he is good and goddam gonna make him some money on Friday night.  Feeling low because I realize tthat something inside me has died---the passion that I had for Otis.  Like we are reduced to me giving, him  needing and him taking.  That kind of relationship puts a relationship on an uneven playing field---things can't be right in that situation.  Especially when one of the people is twenty years older than the other, and that one being a woman.  I am so depressed to be 52 years old and not liking who I see, and it isn't fair, isn't fair at all that I have come into this situation with this man, and he's notmy race, so therefore I can not only not compete with any one my age, but also not my race.  And of course I have become fascinated with the race, and I see everyone through his eyes, and I only see beautiful black girls with firm strong smooth long black limbs and high tight booties and fine high bosoms and full lips and flashing brown eyes, and I feel so old, and so fat, and so white and so pasty.  and I don;t feel pretty at all, and I don't think white people are good looking anymore.  WHite people are really very ugly---and I'm hating everything, and myself most of all.  I can't be young and black===I can't be Jordyn, or even Amber.  and I notice he has not come by the room to see me tonight, and I think it's dead for him, too.  I feelvery sad to be witnessing the death of a relationship, to be a player in the death of a relationship.  I hate everything, and I hate Dr. Turner that mother fucker for always having to do a goddam bowel resection on a Friday night.  But what the hell, he and I have nothing to really say to each other any way.  It's pretty much dead.  dead dead dead and dead.  These two, Dr. Foote and Dr. Turner are just amiably chatting away while they slowly snip away at bowel adhesions and take their own sweet fucking time on this patient.  Disgusted with everything, you know?  Truly tired.  Need a change.  Need to get out of this.  Probably just tell him when I drop him off tomorrow---we're kind of dead, aren't we.  Nothing going on here.  Lets just move on.