Some of my skin just flaked off of my chest like it would from a snake. If I had a microscope, I'd like to take a good look at it. I'd have to make sure I had a trash can close by to heave into because that's just flipping sick. I ain't no mad scientist, baby. I'm just a fair-skinned Irish girl with a sunburn. Screw you, sun. You ain't no friend of mine. Ain't, ain't, ain't.
I've been crying a lot for the past 24 hours. My face is pretty puffy-n-swollen and It's obvious to everyone in the office that I haven't slept. I used to think I looked the most beautiful after I cried because my eyes got really red which made them appear very green. And I always get the Angelina Jolie lip thing going on. Today I just look strung out which is bringing me additional pain.
There is a little. black, rain cloud hovering over my head taunting me like a relentless bitch. I'd like to shoot it with a spear or a lawn jart. I predict that I would then be soaked and I hate being in wet clothes. Bottom line...the VERY bottom, the gutter if you will...is that I am depressed.
I feel like my whole life is going to change due to my living situation alterations. I know Phoebe has to move on with her life. Hell, if I wasn't a home owner and officially HAD a boyfriend rather than a playmate, and he asked me to move in, you'd see a Road Runner-esque cloud of smoke behind me as I packed my bags. I guess I'm disappointed because we had VERY recently, like last week, discussed the possibility of her moving out and that was just unthinkable any time soon. And yet, her change of address was submitted at work yesterday. And it's also upsetting because I think this will hurt the friendship. She's not my prisoner...it's not like that. But we live together (supposedly) and I never hang out with her. My psychic powers are telling me that I will see her even LESS when her shit is occupying my domain. So...it's upsetting, as you can imagine.
And of course, the fat needs to be trimmed from this steak in order to make it healthy for me. So I have to get rid of Netflix which is TERRIBLY upsetting since it brings me nothing but joy. I might try to decrease my number of disks and see if I can hack it. Trying to get out of my gym contract. Not betting on NASCAR at work anymore. Trying to find homes for the Ol' Kentucky Cats which pretty much makes me want to slash my throat with a rusty hacksaw. And most recently, the wheels in my head have been suggesting that it's time for me to retire my dancin' shoes and say good-bye to the Pussyfoot Girls. When will I have time to devote to them if I'm planning on getting a second job AND going back to school?
Oh yeah...I'm going back to school to get an additional Associate's degree.
I'm sad and I feel very lonely. It's hard to be lonely when you're in love because you start asking yourself, "Should I really be feeling this way when there's a person I'm crrrrrraaaaazzzzzyyyyy about in my life?". It's not good to start asking yourself these questions. And I shouldn't even HAVE shit like this on my mind. My fella should be the easy and squishy and reliable part of it all. Not another thing to worry about. Not something else to appease. But I can't let him go. He owns my heart.
Life is a rotten apple right now.
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