charm-and-pity

[charm-and-pity]

I have been eating and drinking and giffing way too much. I think it is because I now have energy, but no practical outlets. Got to transition that shit.

[charm-and-pity]

I have agreed to an outing with her and other high school people. I am nervous af, yet this degree of discomfort does not warrent putting here. I am not miserable about it.

I am looking forward to it, in fact. I want it to occur and I want to know what will change -- CHANGE -- afterwards. Even if it sucks, I'm down.

At this point, I have steeled myself (potentially delusionally) against the crushing emotions that come with failure, so, even if it all goes to shit, I'm good, AND, if it rocks, I am in the black. Hell ya.

I was contacted by an old, dear friend, very casually (as is their lovely vibe), and we exchanged some messages. The issue I have now is this:

I THINK I sent the last message. I subscribe to the ping pong standard of text communication -- I go, then you go, then I go, then you go, and, if you don't go, then I don't go because that's extra, etc. -- but, from what I can recall, in the last email I sent, I was drunk and emotional af and there has been no response from my buddy since.

My diatribe (I assume) may not have been at all offensive to the recipient -- we each have shit to do and our communication is sparse for a reason. I can understand that. I hope for that.

The text I typed may very well be sitting, unsent, in my email drafts, upsetting no one. The problem there is I am too fearful to even look in the folder. I do not want to know that the message was, in fact, sent and my basic attempts at human connection and personal expression have alienated yet another person. Good lord.

I largely submit, but I still hope sometimes.

[charm-and-pity]

I now realize things have been going off the rails as of late.

During the last week, on two separate occasions, I have found a loose, fully-intact egg in my living room.

[charm-and-pity]

Dead mouse.

Oops, mouse. Hopefully, the cat gets that by morning.

[charm-and-pity]

Seconds after posting this, they cheerfully responded.

Goddamn. Calm down.

I was contacted by an old, dear friend, very casually (as is their lovely vibe), and we exchanged some messages. The issue I have now is this:

I THINK I sent the last message. I subscribe to the ping pong standard of text communication -- I go, then you go, then I go, then you go, and, if you don't go, then I don't go because that's extra, etc. -- but, from what I can recall, in the last email I sent, I was drunk and emotional af and there has been no response from my buddy since.

My diatribe (I assume) may not have been at all offensive to the recipient -- we each have shit to do and our communication is sparse for a reason. I can understand that. I hope for that.

The text I typed may very well be sitting, unsent, in my email drafts, upsetting no one. The problem there is I am too fearful to even look in the folder. I do not want to know that the message was, in fact, sent and my basic attempts at human connection and personal expression have alienated yet another person. Good lord.

I largely submit, but I still hope sometimes.

[charm-and-pity]

I was contacted by an old, dear friend, very casually (as is their lovely vibe), and we exchanged some messages. The issue I have now is this:

I THINK I sent the last message. I subscribe to the ping pong standard of text communication -- I go, then you go, then I go, then you go, and, if you don't go, then I don't go because that's extra, etc. -- but, from what I can recall, in the last email I sent, I was drunk and emotional af and there has been no response from my buddy since.

My diatribe (I assume) may not have been at all offensive to the recipient -- we each have shit to do and our communication is sparse for a reason. I can understand that. I hope for that.

The text I typed may very well be sitting, unsent, in my email drafts, upsetting no one. The problem there is I am too fearful to even look in the folder. I do not want to know that the message was, in fact, sent and my basic attempts at human connection and personal expression have alienated yet another person. Good lord.

I largely submit, but I still hope sometimes.

[charm-and-pity]

Last night, out of necessity, I went to a crowded public space and sat and (occasionally) spoke with others for about four hours and, holy shit, I cannot compete nor can I acclimate. It is insane I am of the same species.

I only talk on Sundays.

[charm-and-pity]

Dead mouse.

Oops, mouse. Hopefully, the cat gets that by morning.

[charm-and-pity]

You hope your card gets declined, but the transaction goes through and now you've just got more alcohol and debt.

[charm-and-pity]

Found them. Behind a pile on a kitchen counter.

I have raw chicken thighs somewhere. Somewhere in my apartment. They are not in my fridge or freezer. They are no longer viable, but I should find them. I cannot find them. I do not know where I put this meat.

[charm-and-pity]

I only talk on Sundays.

[charm-and-pity]

I have raw chicken thighs somewhere. Somewhere in my apartment. They are not in my fridge or freezer. They are no longer viable, but I should find them. I cannot find them. I do not know where I put this meat.

[charm-and-pity]

Whoops.

I cleaned my cat's litterbox before he could piss in my bed.

We all feel better.

[charm-and-pity]

I cleaned my cat's litterbox before he could piss in my bed.

We all feel better.

[charm-and-pity]

I feel the need to stay awake just in case.

[charm-and-pity]

I have lost my medication and it's been a few days. It's that messy in here.

[charm-and-pity]

Unless actively engaged with something -- anything -- I eat. At least once a minute, I conclude that eating is the best action to undertake at that moment and I will then set upon the task of acquiring food as part of the natural sequence of events. That is the groove.

I have to repeatedly catch myself. Every minute, I feel a guilty jolt when I realize I was on my way to food town.

It's absurd. Every situation leads to food.

I am now mentally narrating this ridiculousness so that I can better understand my behaviour and also to distract myself from getting those num-nums. I stopped mentality narrating my nonsense years ago (and now I feel nothing and that's fine). But daaaang. It's coming up.