nothing to see here
should've smashed my head when i smashed my thumb instead. give me the beat boys. the pain woke my fingers just how i've been waiting for the rest of me, running off through the forest, hand raised above my heart like eureka and not just the last step in RICE (rest, ice, compression, elevation). i skipped right to the best part, then begged for a ride to the corner convenient store because ain't got no alcohol in the house, owing to my teetotaling (MAYHAPS THAT'S WHY I HURT MYSELF).
ugh i hate these standard three paragraph entries
two days later
so, my head is clear of the pain, and the brief glimpse of what i used to be is foggy; i miss it. there was such a freedom in not being bound by career pursuits (well, not financial freedom) and now i am back in that safe space where all the handcuffs are golden.
They say that one person can make a difference which is laughable whenever you've ever tried to get the person closest to you in all the world to listen for five goddamn minutes.
I am too old for foolish adventures. That's it, that must be the di*ag*no*sis. I don't even write my dreams down in a journal anymore, because they represent the past and not the future. What do you do when you've already lived your heart's desire? you wouldn't write that down, would you? it's the difference between dreaming and gloating. oh god i just invented the bucked it list. (BACK PACKED EUROPE. CHECK. WENT SKY DIVING AND USED THE PHOTO AS MY MATCH.COM PROFILE. CHECK. RAN WITH THE BULLS. CHECK.)
My thumb appeared broken or dislocated, and i was encouraged to go to the doctor but why? The difference between a bum thumb and internet cancer is you can cure the former. why stand in an emergency room for four hours just so a PA can charge you $80 for gauze and reignite your passion for opiates? three days later and it is the pain and uselessness of this digit that has me reminiscing what it's like not to swim with dolphins or visit the taj mahal or write the great american novel.
Is there a difference between denying and strongly denying the accusations? there's nothing to see here, folks.
ugh i hate these standard three paragraph entries
two days later
so, my head is clear of the pain, and the brief glimpse of what i used to be is foggy; i miss it. there was such a freedom in not being bound by career pursuits (well, not financial freedom) and now i am back in that safe space where all the handcuffs are golden.
They say that one person can make a difference which is laughable whenever you've ever tried to get the person closest to you in all the world to listen for five goddamn minutes.
I am too old for foolish adventures. That's it, that must be the di*ag*no*sis. I don't even write my dreams down in a journal anymore, because they represent the past and not the future. What do you do when you've already lived your heart's desire? you wouldn't write that down, would you? it's the difference between dreaming and gloating. oh god i just invented the bucked it list. (BACK PACKED EUROPE. CHECK. WENT SKY DIVING AND USED THE PHOTO AS MY MATCH.COM PROFILE. CHECK. RAN WITH THE BULLS. CHECK.)
My thumb appeared broken or dislocated, and i was encouraged to go to the doctor but why? The difference between a bum thumb and internet cancer is you can cure the former. why stand in an emergency room for four hours just so a PA can charge you $80 for gauze and reignite your passion for opiates? three days later and it is the pain and uselessness of this digit that has me reminiscing what it's like not to swim with dolphins or visit the taj mahal or write the great american novel.
Is there a difference between denying and strongly denying the accusations? there's nothing to see here, folks.
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