I don't feel good.
(or well, orwell)
I am hallucinating tiny animals and songs called "Aicha" and tomorrow is my last day of work so I might as well not go there today right because there are band-aids around my lungs right, preventing me from taking a full deep breath. and my head is cemented and my nasal passages are liquefied. the 5:45 revelation this morning is that my bowels have followed suit.
I got a new job but I don't know if I'm going to take it because the hours would directly affect my Timmytime; he works shitty hours too and the combination of our shitty hours would mean that we would literally never see each other awake until the weekend, even though we live in the same room. that's pretty horrifying to me.
even though the pay is better than necessary.
I went back in my SG journal to see the very first comment he ever left me, and then I read every single comment he left me from then on until the point we met. I didn't pay enough attention to him back in the beginning, I think partly because he was so incomprehensibly cool. and genuinely good and interesting, which is more than can be said for.. several people. I never knew what to say. and I don't know what happened but I'm glad it did because whenever I have a bunched-up-shoulders kind of Saturday I come home to a fresh loaf of beautiful delicious bread and $7 worth of strawberries and he hugs me and my whole fucking life is okay.
I used to write in this journal a lot, and people used to leave me a lot of comments. and many of those people I truly truly appreciated are now gone, and I sort of miss them. and I sort of miss my breath. but everything else is good, I think.
(or well, orwell)
I am hallucinating tiny animals and songs called "Aicha" and tomorrow is my last day of work so I might as well not go there today right because there are band-aids around my lungs right, preventing me from taking a full deep breath. and my head is cemented and my nasal passages are liquefied. the 5:45 revelation this morning is that my bowels have followed suit.
I got a new job but I don't know if I'm going to take it because the hours would directly affect my Timmytime; he works shitty hours too and the combination of our shitty hours would mean that we would literally never see each other awake until the weekend, even though we live in the same room. that's pretty horrifying to me.
even though the pay is better than necessary.
I went back in my SG journal to see the very first comment he ever left me, and then I read every single comment he left me from then on until the point we met. I didn't pay enough attention to him back in the beginning, I think partly because he was so incomprehensibly cool. and genuinely good and interesting, which is more than can be said for.. several people. I never knew what to say. and I don't know what happened but I'm glad it did because whenever I have a bunched-up-shoulders kind of Saturday I come home to a fresh loaf of beautiful delicious bread and $7 worth of strawberries and he hugs me and my whole fucking life is okay.
I used to write in this journal a lot, and people used to leave me a lot of comments. and many of those people I truly truly appreciated are now gone, and I sort of miss them. and I sort of miss my breath. but everything else is good, I think.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
OMGZ!
Seriously, so oddly random. I was rereading a journal entry of mine from mid-May that I'd linked to in my journal tonight, and I suddenly noticed that your username by your comment wasn't black anymore.
So, yay.
On another note, I hate the not-being-able-to-breathe. I was feeling just like that for . . . all of September, actually. Fucking breathing systems.
I miss the old days. It was cosy.