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Yep, I'm officially Miserable.
I am lonely. My ankles are so bite-ridden that they are sore and swollen; itchy enough that I can't even register much itching at all from the bites on my back and my arms and the rest of my legs. I am exhausted; I can't sleep. I want to do things, but I don't have the energy to bother. There really isn't any food in this house, I should go and get something, even just some deli meat and bread so I can make sandwiches, but I look like hell and I don't want to wash my face or my hair or shave my legs or anything.
Oh Christ, I think I'm going to sink into yet another ghastly funk of a depression.
Fuckity.
I am lonely. My ankles are so bite-ridden that they are sore and swollen; itchy enough that I can't even register much itching at all from the bites on my back and my arms and the rest of my legs. I am exhausted; I can't sleep. I want to do things, but I don't have the energy to bother. There really isn't any food in this house, I should go and get something, even just some deli meat and bread so I can make sandwiches, but I look like hell and I don't want to wash my face or my hair or shave my legs or anything.
Oh Christ, I think I'm going to sink into yet another ghastly funk of a depression.
Fuckity.
