Head Splodeys

I need some snuggling & some endorphins, STAT!
Thursday, Nov. 22, 2001 - 1:16 a.m.

My throat feels like I've been screaming for hours.

I haven't. Really. Maybe I'd feel better if I had.

I know I'd feel better if the Squeezy & I had been able to have nakey time before he had to go to work tonight, but alas, it was not to be.

Have I mentioned that the Squeezy is the only thing that keeps me sane? He says he mopes when I'm not around. When he's not around, I vacillate between unfeeling sloth & neurotic anxiety. Maybe not all the time, but enough to make his presence a necessity in my life. I luvs me some SqueezyPet. More, I'm addicted.

::sigh:: I am Incomplete Sentence Girl tonight. I was going to stay up for awhile longer (the Squeezy & I leave for his mom's house when he gets off work at 6am), but I'm thinking sleep might be a better option at this point.

I can't stop thinking of my job, & what's wrong with me. I can hear the voices in my head saying "grow up. Go to work. Everyone else has to. What makes you think you're so special? Just force yourself to go. How hard can that be? What the hell is your problem?" Fuck off, voices. I can't, I just can't. I'm sorry.

What's really depressing is that this job was sortof my personal Babylon 5 of employment: my Last Best Hope for a job I could live with. I thought if I had a job I liked working for a boss I respected, things would be fine. Now I know the problem is not with my jobs, but with me.

That's going to be a little bit harder to work around.

Give a Clix, if you please.

midi lives in gloomcounty
midi came from Ravenswood Manor