I hate the holidays because every holiday is accompanied by the day before the holiday, when I get up at some ridiculous hour of the morning, get on a plane, and spend the rest of the day zig-zagging across the US to Houston or Alaska of Phillidelphia. Then I spend a week stuck with my family who I love to death but sometimes can't stand, and it's usually okay, except that sometimes it is unbearable and depressing and inescapable.
I really hate the day before the holiday, thought, because the night before I fly is the night that everyone else I know has already gone home leaving me utterly alone with my thoughts, which are typically some combination of cynical, morbid, and unhappy.
I really hate the day before the holiday, thought, because the night before I fly is the night that everyone else I know has already gone home leaving me utterly alone with my thoughts, which are typically some combination of cynical, morbid, and unhappy.
starfior:
Still there. The pic is just kinda blurry, and they aren't reflecting much.
judas:
i am all by my lonesome here in the apartment. it's sad. michael won't be back until saturday. i lived alone for three years, happily. now i'm so used to the comfort of having another body in the place i live snoozing too it's kind of hard to imagine going to sleep knowing michael won't be in the bedroom next to me.