Medication did not remove pissy mood as per instructions. And three ibuprofen did not remove headache as per instructions. A headache that is clearly a tension headache from the jaw clenching and teeth-grinding or whatever it is that I do without realizing it.
You know what gives me the greatest feeling of relief? Finding out that someone is completely or mostly indifferent to me. Because then there's no expectation. No pressure to live up to some standard of good or heinous. Just... eh. I mean, that's most of the world, isn't it? Eh. That little noncommittal noise sums up everything. Some of it's good, some of it's bad, most of it is eh. *beats hopelessness back with her Fraggle Rock doll* No! NO! Preserve my childhood innocence, please! It's all David Sedaris' fault!
Or maybe I'm just used to being considered a jerk and figure indifference is a step up. Insecure much? (Selfish much? Eat babies much? Soon it begins to lose all meaning and relevance.)
On a sort of icky note, I'm getting sick of having open sores on my body. I may have suspended cutting, but that doesn't mean I've suspended self-mutilation. No sir. *pickpickpickpickmustdigoutmicrochips* And I might be sick of it, but that doesn't mean I can stop... god, how fucked up is that? Well... at least I'm not an alcoholic. Yet.
I miss my panther. Stupid... not-hereness.
You know what gives me the greatest feeling of relief? Finding out that someone is completely or mostly indifferent to me. Because then there's no expectation. No pressure to live up to some standard of good or heinous. Just... eh. I mean, that's most of the world, isn't it? Eh. That little noncommittal noise sums up everything. Some of it's good, some of it's bad, most of it is eh. *beats hopelessness back with her Fraggle Rock doll* No! NO! Preserve my childhood innocence, please! It's all David Sedaris' fault!
Or maybe I'm just used to being considered a jerk and figure indifference is a step up. Insecure much? (Selfish much? Eat babies much? Soon it begins to lose all meaning and relevance.)
On a sort of icky note, I'm getting sick of having open sores on my body. I may have suspended cutting, but that doesn't mean I've suspended self-mutilation. No sir. *pickpickpickpickmustdigoutmicrochips* And I might be sick of it, but that doesn't mean I can stop... god, how fucked up is that? Well... at least I'm not an alcoholic. Yet.
I miss my panther. Stupid... not-hereness.
Current Mood: 
cynical
cynicalCurrent Music: They Might Be Giants - 88 Lines About 44 Women
[2 particles in motion] | [take my photo to bed]
