I woke up later than I expected, later than I wanted. I missed something that I wanted, but it’s not the biggest deal. I have things to do, they will get done, or they won’t.

There are people that I should pay attention to, but I can’t. Or I could, but I won’t. These people, this person, deserves my attention more than the boy… but I know what I’m going to do. Why bother feeling bad.

I logged into my work accounts last night, and I can already feel a shift inside of me. I’m once again thinking for them, writing for them, the invisible audience of the internet that feeds me money. I guess I have to – I’m far away from going broke, but not as far as I need to be.

The boy got a promotion.

I’ll talk about why this matters to me. His money is clearly his, not mine, just as my boyfriend’s is. Both men have more money than I do. Men always do (I thought of my side dude when I wrote that) but why am I still the one giving? What am I trying to prove?

I feel like I want to fold in, work on myself, but I know that it’s simply too easy to just fuck away all of my free time like I always do. Why did I even bother falling in love? It’s a waste of time. This weekend I want the boy to fix all the shit around my house, like a real boyfriend. I’m sick of men treating me like a whore, except for free.

You’ve been real sweet to me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.

I’m not even mad, but wtf is that? Damned if you haven’t noticed, I’ve put down a mortgage payment on your birthday and all you’ve done is bitch me over by constantly complaining that I’m standing too close to your hot friend, who also fucking noticed bitch. You’re lucky I’m not sucking his dick right now. I never would, because I know how that feels, and for some reason I don’t want you to feel that way, even though you do deserve it.

These words hit hollow today. I’m not mad. I’m in love.

I spoke to my boyfriend last night, but the words were hollow. I had fucked through his phone calls, he answered when I called back, but it was an emotionless conversation. For some reason I stayed up until 7am but got nothing done.

I have to do more today. I want to focus, and change the verb tense to something more powerful, and actually go off and get to work. I had a half a cigarette with my coffee before coming here today, so maybe I’m just off tempo with my caffeine cycle and missed my chance at something meaningful here.

I had dreams, but they were mostly just a mental cover up for the noise that was outside. Although, there was one part that was interesting… a few, now that I think of it. The narrative begins to unfold in reverse, at the start of every scene I simply ask “but how did I get there?” and more is uncovered as an answer. In the same way one traces back drunken shenanigans when they find themselves inexplicably waking up in their own bed… or the bed of whoever saved them.

I was standing at the tax collector counter of the town tax collector, but I was there to get money. I’m not sure who was behind the counter, but I know two people who might have been although I’m trying not to force sense on this narrative. I was being paid, someone had left money for me there (I know who I have to check on). I want to say it was $500, which is a clue to who it was, and it was all in change (but somehow fit into a plain white envelope).

I exchanged a few friendly words with the people there, they talked about the person who left it for me in a friendly fashion, but nothing identifying as I really have no idea what these men are like at work when they’re dressed, when they are who they have to be and not who they want to be.

Who they want me to believe they are.

The man in question… there are two. I should see what trouble I can get into, there’s absolutely no reason not too, except I don’t have time. I could use a good scandal, right after I get my house decorated.

My coffee is lukewarm at best. I probably won’t get into the rest of my dreams, they didn’t feel that profound although they might have been – Actually, the noise that the narrative came from might be more profound than what my mind came up with instead. It’s beautiful out, I should see about that.

This part came after, I’m not sure how long after. My mother was there, I do believe, but I don’t see the significance of her contribution. Maybe I will.

We were sitting on a porch, if felt like the back porch of this house I like, from a land point of view – the shape was like my brother’s back porch (maybe that’s how my Mother was there?)

We were talking about gym memberships (is that why my Mother was there?) And there were some prices being thrown around… prices that I should look into. The conversation was normal, in terms of the new normal – we discussed what time was best to go, how they were appointment only up until 7, or 10, and totally empty at 2am – perfect for me! Maybe I should do it, but it just doesn’t feel safe to go to the gym during the pandemic, even if it’s empty. However, winter is coming, and I’m going to fall apart if I lose any more of my muscle mass…

We discussed logistics.

Glad to see me and my body are still on speaking terms, even if they took to the subconscious stage to officially present their grievances. It’s true, I’m in pain and winter is going to make it worse. I don’t know who to talk to to get good advice here. My Father will tell me to go to the gym, of course, but he’s not considering the plague. Everyone else just simply can’t understand why I need the gym like I do, the fat lazy fuckers. Or they’re runners, who work out for stimulation, not relaxation as I do.

I wonder who’s going to leave me 500 in change around here. I better go get it.

My dreams were lame, this post is lame, I should go get to work.