Let's have some bullets. Shall we?
- 13 days. Not this Friday, but next. I like to close my eyes and think Not this Friday, but next. I tried clicking my heels, but nothing happened.
- I'm pretty sure someone stole my ipod. I can't find it. It had to have been at work. If you see a giant ipod that makes you think to yourself did this come from an archeologist dig. It's mine, please return.
- I'm like a genetically modified chicken- all thigh. I would draw you a diagram, but I don't have any way of getting it to you.
- I can't make a fucking decision to save my life. It probably would save what little life I have left.
- I cried at least 13 times today. If I continue being by myself I might make it to 16. I'm leaving this room soon.
- I have written some things in a very very unorganized way that just need to be sorted out. I can't make myself do it. I like the catharsis. The work freezes me.
- I tend to listen to a song over and over and over. So Far Away. Then I switch to Way Over Yonder. I've exhausted Joni Mitchell. I'm on to Carol King.
- I NEED a work space. Like I need oxygen. I'm pretty sure this is only adding to my depression. My bed isn't cutting it. I can't sleep here, write here, do crafts on it. I just can't do it anymore.
1 comment:
Breach of your contract includes " Sudden loss of ass and gorgeous legs.."
-I always find listening to retardedly happy music helps.
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