Well, I think I’m done with my second book of poetry. I read through it completely once, it’s pretty simple. Mom will read through it eventually, I share it with her on Google fucking Drive. Nice piece of software, that.
I find that ridiculous acts of stupidity make me paranoid. Go figure.
What was I saying…
So in order to fight my schizophrenia, I just have to be logical. But the continuation is what kills. That part I haven’t figured out. A lot of it happens on it’s own, to be frank. It really does. And I have no answer to that but help help meds help help.
My antivirus scan just passed. So that’s nice.
I don’t want to make others feel like shit, either. But some people are just so sensitive, it’s absurd.
Never know who you’re gonna meat.
Well in any case, I’m not sure where I’m headed. I don’t normally plan my sentences out on this blog. I kind of just rant. Have you noticed?
Ah, that cliche Yes, yes…
I need to finish my code for work tomorrow. Then I have to go into lab on Tuesday. Super annoying. The sooner I can transition to a programming job, the better. I need to study study study and practice practice practice. Still, it will take time. It always does. Sigh. Why didn’t I start this sooner… Was I busy or something?
You have to make decisions. YOU. HAVE. TO. MAKE. DECISIONS.
So there’s that. Decision paralysis smfh.
Weak-minded feeble minded ass pricks.
Nature feels good.
I am awake at 3 am on a Sunday, and there is no entertainment on the internet, and I generally don’t really like reading if I can avoid it.
I could lie in bed and read A Spool of Blue Thread, the novel I am reading, like 5 minutes at a time, with breaks in between because my reading stamina is shit and there’s no explanation for it and there never has been but there might be if some fucking therapist or psychologist actually decides to fucking help me out some day for once, which won’t happen. Wow long sentence.
I feel alright though. I don’t mind blogging for now.
But I wish I could sleep. I’m not sleepy. Mother is worried about me most of the time. Whore.
SHe’s so annoying though! Really. She desreves every ounce of whore.
Poetry book done…
Eh. I’m done here. I need to figure out what else to do.