Eating: Um... life?
Drinking:Dasani water
Wearing: Jeans, black tank top with built in bra, lavender panties, eith a little sleeping kitty on them, my claddagh, green choker and matching earrings, contacts, vestiges of the day's make-up, black belt.
Listening to: *Hummmmrumblerumblerumble* It's my washing machione making contented noises.
Chatting with: Keeping my own counsel.
Thinking: "I need to concentrate on my posture more."
Remembering: Dave's tongue ring.
Glad for: My ability to move past fear into growth.
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Ah.... (no, not the refreshing afterminty Ah..., more of an old man with arthiritis sinking into his chair) all time - is relative
I was just about to jump into my day, and how much it sucked, when I realized something. This diary has become my dumping ground for problems in a big way lately. Now, what does this say about (cue introspective music) me? Well, today my female best friend' told me she doesn'wan't to talk to me any more (doesn't this echo what my male 'best friend' just told me, what, a week ago? Nah, course not. It just seemed like she had listened to what he said, took notes, and did a bad job of putting it in to her own words. Nah, nothing like that. I didn't feel any of the emptiness and pain as I did then. Nah, competely different. Heh. Right. Whatever. Anyways, she was one of three people that I would share my problems with. Two now who have left. And I can't drop all of my problems on Craig, that wouldn't be fair. Peter is, I don't want to talk about that, and Ariel is basically gone. All I have is this diary. I just reread that sentence I just wrote and realized how pathetic it is. How pathetic I am. Ah.... Isn't sharing my probnlems supposed to make me feel better, not worse? Oh well, no one cares anyways. Computers. The humming in both comforting and mocking. Ah, I have too much time on my hands..
Quote for the Entry: "Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair." ~Kahlil Gibran
all time - is relative