Broken moments, another evening close to the end. Close the sleep and bored but at least trying. And now really fucking hungry so I really should go to bed. I’ve got jobs to apply for and someone just shoved a PHD in front of me again.
Fuck it, I’m old. Do you have any idea how old I am. Am I writing? Am I dead yet?
Got asked what the tablet was I was taking. Politely refused to answer, more because I think it’s none of their business than anything else. They probably know or suspect but frankly it’s nothing to do with them. And I’m not prepared to have ‘the discussion about anti-depressants’ over a decision I’ve made about my own fucking life.
With all due respect.
The dreams have been strong and constant which is odd as it only highlights just how much I’ve not been dreaming as much for years. Fuck it, I’m dead anyway. Let’s see what happens.
But goddess if you can use this to our advantage please do so. God, I wish you looked like a mermaid. Long story. Are you frien…
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