I’m sick of pain. I’m sick of being afraid to eat. I’m afraid of pissing off my colon. I hate liquid diets. I love food too much.
Too many thoughts swirling. I want to write and I don’t want to write.
I’m also a little depressed. It’s coming up on a year since I’ve seen a man I really like and have an interest in. But, even though I feel like the feelings are mutual (my intuition tells me so), he seems to not have the courage to do what he needs to do. I’d love to pop into his office and say, “Hey!” but it’s a very busy place, and I’d feel as though I were intruding. It’s complicated. He’s hard to let go of. It makes me sad.
Im exhausted. I’m sick of exhaustion. I think politics is exhausting me as much as physical pain is. I’m scared about what’s happening to our democracy. I don’t think there has ever been a time in American history in which one party was so clearly wrong and the other so clearly in the right about protecting and continuing our democracy. It scares me. It exhausts me. It angers me. The Right is Wrong.
I wish trump and his ilk would just evaporate.
I’m sick of my CPAP machine. More accurately, I’m sick of daily washing all the components. I’m tired of red lines on my cheeks from the mask digging into my skin to keep the pressurized air from escaping and therefore making wearing said mask effective against sleep apnea. I want that imbedded chip to zap my body into breathing when I have apneas.
I just ran completely out of energy to continue this. Think of it as a journal entry.