Entry tags:
Oh Christ
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.
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It's just the bites on my ANKLES! I guess it's because there's so many, so close together, pretty well on the boniest part of me, and so much that it hurts to walk. They're not as itchy as they were, thank god, but they hurt like hell.
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