November 24, 2002 :: 10:52 p.m.
si la terre m'ouvre et avale entier...
Sunday night. T minus 68 minutes until it's officially Monday... what a horrifying thought. I haven't done a damn thing that even remotely resembles productive this weekend, which would normally be great, but not now. I have so much shit to get done, and I knew that I had to start it this weekend, but I didn't. Because I'm unmotivated and apathetic and exhausted in so many ways. I'm sick of this, all of it, the people and the requirements and the constant feelings of absolute alienation and inadequacy. I hate it, but I don't want to leave. I don't think I could handle anymore months like the ones last year, full of loneliness and longing and uncertainty and desperation. Adam is the only thing on Earth that makes me truly happy, and I refuse to be away from him like that again.
Damn. I can tell that if I keep writing about this, things are going to get angsty and depressing and just generally very ugly. And yet there's nothing else to write about, really. Adam and I slept in until 11 today, went to brunch, he studied, I slacked, we played Starfox, went to dinner, he studied, I slacked, we hung out for a bit, and now it's bedtime. Not too much to share otherwise, except for the slightly deeper than usual level of nastiness that I'm feeling right now. I kind of feel like talking, but Adam's asleep, I think. I would call/go upstairs, but I don't want to wake him up. The boy needs his sleep, he gets up at like 5 o' clock in the morning.
I'm just going to... go now. End this pointlessness. At least I can amuse myself with Adult Swim until I fall asleep.
'Night.
edited 12:40 a.m. Happy 700 entries to me. I almost forgot about that.
back & forth
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