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.
He went outside to the parking lot, they were waiting outside, her in a white tank top and birthday tiara (I shouldn’t have to explain this to anyone). My girlfriend, the person who threw the whole party, was of course nowhere to be found.
His daughter, in the same weird outfit, was holding the door for him.
I then remembered that I’m no longer afraid of spiders, and decided to push forward (in my waking state probably not a good idea.) The panic of claustrophobia set in, and then I remembered that I was actually asleep and should probably just wake up.
Is this exercise losing it’s impact? I don’t think so, I think it’s exactly the opposite. I think that I’m out of practice here because I haven’t been back. Because I’ve been waking up in one bed or another, because I’ve been ashamed at my actual progress, because I’ve continued seeing the same men that I hate even though I know that they are not worth dying for, the money is not worth dying for, it’s not worth killing everyone I love for, and even in good times it was killing me, and I’m going back into the meat grinder for a a second run through.
I am so mean to people when I try to protect myself. Like a fucking cornered animal. He is going to leave me, so I have to leave him. I can say whatever I want about it, and I will, I have, but that is the truth.