I don't even know anymore.
Taking nyquil just makes me sleep all day.
Meh.
Oh hey.
I have plans on Wednesday. That I have to be awake at noon for.
Not missing it again.
Have to go see the GSA.
Miss those guys.
And it will be Emily's birthday on Thursday.
Woo!
Rory asked me out for Valentine's Day.
I don't even know the kid.
That is way too much pressure for a first date.
So, no thanks.
But his name is Rory.
Come on.
Meh.
Not the same.
Not the same.
Now I'm just waiting for the apartment to be empty so I can find something to eat.
And shower. Then I will go to Lucky Dog.
Maybe cut my hair today, finally.
Dye it.
The works.
I'd be okay with dieing.
Not to the point of suicide,
But I would be okay with it.
[Not that you ever could, anyway. Pussy.]
Not helping.
But you're right.
If I were to be hit by a bus, or take too many pills, or go into a sudden coma.
I could accept it.
It wouldn't be the worst thing.
Let it happen.
Y' know?
Not that I'm going to go out and try.
Nothing to worry about.
Seriously.
I wish there was some deep way I could put my thoughts down.
Metaphors and similes rather than just out right saying I'm okay with dieing.
I used to want to because of my sisters, the way life was, the shit I was put through.
They always seemed to be better than me. More talented, prettier.
They were allowed to cry.
I was just a fucking kid.
I thought I couldn't do it anymore.
Now.
Now, I don't compare myself to them.
I don't want to be like them.
I am me.
This person seems to be worse than who they wanted me to be.
I'm not such a fan of me, but that's not the point.
Hating myself and dieing are two separate issues, if that makes sense.
[It doesn't.]
It does to me.
Well.
This got sad fast.
Let's not talk about it.
K?
Picture time.
Should draw more.
I drew this one for Brian, even before our first date.
Something about a Roman bear.
He wanted me to draw it. So I did.
I ripped it out, so I could give it to him.
It's tapped in my notebook now.
[It still kind of hurts.]
I know.
I know.
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