My mind is sludge...
Much thanks goes out to whoever gave me the evil death flu from
San Fransisco. I can't breath, I can't move, I can't think, and
medicine isn't doing a damn thing. Not to mention, I have the most intense, paralyzing craving for chocolate right now that I feel like I should be climbing my walls or something.
Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. Oi, the hormones.
So he thinks I'm a
bitch... well, at least he finally said it to my face, in a way of sorts. Although... making a nodeshell and
softlinking my name to it is pretty fucking juvenile, if not cowardly; I would have expected better from him. Why not tell me in person? Huh? If I'm really that
horrible, if I'm really such a huge bitch, and if I'm really that
psychotic, why not tell me to fuck off six months ago? Why pretend to be my friend?
Sometimes people make no fucking sense.
Accidently cut myself earlier... a
nasty wound, and as I was washing the blood off, I watched it circle silently down the drain... and felt my own life going the same way as well. Now I'm
bitter, depressed, nauseated, and
sick as a dog...
Wonderful fucking day.