I got a jab in on my left side, in front of the bottom rib, and so I got up to take a look around and lost a few sips. Moving should be ok. Why is so much of my productivity tied to sitting down? I have to change that. I have to really get some thought into redoing this apartment, which I will honestly probably leave as soon as I do.
I saw my ex yesterday, and fully fuck that guy. He had one of his girlfriends with him, even though he knew that was expressly not allowed. Of course, he just took the fact that he had done wrong as a trigger to scream at me, as always.
My thoughts wandered to wondering about the other people in my apartment complex, which I’m learning is not all that awesome. How are they surviving? Are they working demeaning jobs that value image over actual human life, are they down to the last dollar at the end of the month, struggling to shave $20 off of their expenses, asking random friends for money, like my town friends have asked me? How do we as a society feel about making people go through that?
He is that kind of asshole, a white man who thinks that he’s exposing me to things I wouldn’t normally see and therefore I shouldn’t need to be paid, that I’m actually having fun. He’s kind of right exactly, but the point is not that it’s fun or not, the point is that I can’t *afford* to have fun. Not unless he pays for it. By taking my time like a vampire, it makes those fun things less fun because I really need to make enough money to work on even relaxing before I can worry about having fun.
I have only one psychic talent. I have one very excellent overarching talent, and that is listening to my intuition. My intuition has been sharpened and informed by my intelligence, and my openness which apparently is a separate aspect of personality for some reason. I think it should be obvious, to an intelligent person, that this world holds so much more than I’ve seen of it yet, and therefore openness should be a given for all intelligent people. There’s no way to avoid the unknown, at one point all of this was unknown to me, and the only way to change that (if I ever wanted to, did I?) would have been and will be to go out there and get about knowing it.
It occurs to me that the root of all of these coincidences is me. Maybe I should leave this place, rather than just keep being surprised that everyone here is from the same place I’m from. I think this is my clue that I’ve been here too long, and all of these people have too.
Maybe I took the opportunity to break up with him because I needed something more to think about than this disaster that is happening in my body. Maybe I’m sick of having to fake happiness. I just want one last shot at life, after this court case, after everything. I’m not old, but to be honest, I was dating an old man, and maybe life would be different if I went out on a limb and had an actual relationship.
I just realized. This post is going to drift off into the ether, as I am running into a deadline and probably won’t have time to come back and link it to anything, making it much less likely to be revisited. I wonder if I will remember what happened today, when I see this again. It feels like I obviously will, but I know myself better than that.
I don’t respond well to stress. I wake up fine when there’s nothing for me to do, when there’s nothing for me to hide from. It’s when I most can’t spend the time, can’t afford to fuck up, that I force myself to sleep late, reject calls on my phone, and wrap myself in blankets wondering if I’ll oversleep rather than just get up and make sure that I don’t.
I’m pretty much over constantly checking everything in this blog to make sure it’s not identifying. First off, there is no traffic here, so the odds of anyone ever seeing anything that is relevant to them is very very low. Second, with people being as they are, there is an even smaller chance among those odds that they will recognize anything here that is relevant to them. Third… I’m 99.8% sure that nothing about me is a relevant to anyone.