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.