I'm on edge. Clearly. This is my third post in less than an hour. Help me. I'm drinking coffee at 7:30pm and did it knowing that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep.
How do you mend a broken heaaaaaaaart? How can a loser, ever win?
Kitana wrote it on her blog, and I'm feeling it myself: Why doesn't anyone love me? I need a hug, a reassuring whisper, and someone to hold me. Oh, and sex. I need sex.
I was going to go out tomorrow night with Di to Cobb's to see Jake Johannsen, but the check I was expecting has not yet reached my mailbox. Which is not to say that the folks upstairs couldn't be holding onto it, because I wouldn't be surprised to find out that it's just sitting on their table by the door. So, no check, no play. Sad. I've told them how important it is for me to get my mail as soon as it comes but they don't seem to understand. Telling them again will only upset me further.
Maybe I'll get back to the short story I started, depression is the perfect time to write about others' lives. People whose only problems are ghosts and the media. Oops, did I give away what I'm writing?
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Saturday, November 29
I've finally added a bunch of blogs and sites that I've been meaning to add forever. If I've forgotten you, please send your URL to me in email.
Thanks.
What do you do...
When your best friend has rewritten the past to have always believed in, and loved, god? And you think that she's replacing booze with church? And you're worried that it could do more damage to your friendship than PPD ever did? And your heart is heavy and pained with the idea that a fictional character could come between you and her?
Nothing. There's nothing you can do because it's her life, her decision, her obsession, and not yours. And inspite of the impact it will have on you, there's nothing you can do.
Ow.