I'm a mess.
I'm so out of wack.
This is what happens when I don't have structure.
My emails are a mess.
I'm not sure which ones I answered and which I didn't.
What should be marked unread and what I can ignore.
I didn't wrap my hair last night because I simply didn't care.
So now I look like a crazy person.
I can't seem to keep my area straight.
I have unemployment papers and car insurance information spread everywhere.
Usually I'm really good about putting my handbags away, but right now, I can see 4 of them over the edge of my labtop screen.
I've been holding on to these Netflix DVDs forever because I don't know where a mailbox is!
I used to mail my DVDs at work.
Where do the unemployed mail their mail?!
And when and how do I eat?
Aren't there specific hours to eat?
Like 9am, 12:30pm and 6pm?
I never eat at those times anyway, but at least there were open spaces made for them.
My whole day is an open space.
An open hole.
I feel like I'm shuffling around in the dark.
This is what happens to me when I have no structure.
When I have no job.
I need a to do list.
Most of all, I need a desk.
A to do list won't matter if I don't have a reason to do any of it.
I have not a deadline to keep and no where to sit to force myself to keep a deadline.
I feel bad being knocked out when my cousin and aunt leave for work everyday.
They're probably thinking, "this bum! you mooch!".
And it's bumming me out.
It bothers me to sit.
My mood is...
I left the Alvin Ailey performance early yesterday.
I couldn't do it anymore.
If I were to sit there through Revelations, I know I would have screamed.
I just couldn't do it.
My aunt and cousin were probably wondering what was wrong with me.
Everything was wrong yesterday.
I wasn't myself.
I'm still not myself.
Besides, the pain in my mouth was killing me.
I didn't think wisdom teeth extraction would be such a big deal.
These 4 holes in my mouth are quite annoying.
I tried to eat a sandwich yesterday.
I should've stuck to the pudding and jello.
The lower right hole in my mouth is so tender.
I'm beginning to get that itch.
The rollercoaster ride itch.
The emotion swirling dipping and diving itch.
The itch for magic.
The itch for glory.
But I know better.
I need to open my eyes.
I need to smack myself out of it.
I told my ex-fiance yesterday that I don't believe in fairy tales anymore.
I used to exist by them.
I told him that I don't think I'll never have a diamond ring.
He yelled at me for not having faith.
Reality is reality.
My dreams are dead.
At least those kind of dreams are.
I don't want to stop writing.
What would I do afterwards?
Lay back down?
Close my eyes and think?
Think about what?
It's too cold to get up.