Oh no. It’s been less than a minute since I ate THE LAST GIRL SCOUT COOKIE…
…and I’m already going into withdrawl.
CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!
Someone get me another box before I’m forced to track down some innocent kid in a Girl Scout uniform and mug her for all her cookies!
Current Mood:
Alarmed
Coffee and Thin Mints.
I have zero self control.
Thank goodness I’m down to the VERY LAST GIRL SCOUT COOKIE!
I’m actually staring at it as I type this.
Current Mood: Alarmed
I wish I could say that my moods have stabilized, but I’d be lying if I did.
While I most certainly feel much better than I did a month ago, this depression is a never ending battle that I fight every single day.
I am sick of it today.
I am sick of living in this fucking desert where winter consists of 80 degrees and sunshine. Constant, consistent sunshine. I hate when it’s sunny out. Give me clouds and rain any day over that blasted sun. I can’t even get myself to look outside. My blinds are all closed.
I’m pissed that the weather is “nice” because I know in a few weeks it’s going to be downright hot outside, and the heat is just awful. And it’s hot 70% of the year here.
Now, if it were cloudy out, I’d open my windows. Clouds make me feel relaxed instead of edgy.
I’ve never wanted to live here. When we moved here when I was five, I hated it. I wanted to know when we’d move back to Washington.
We never did. Instead, I get to visit Seattle on rare occasions and wonder what my life would be like if I’d grown up there instead.
While I am certain my depression would follow me anywhere, I at least know I’d be happier with where I lived if I were somewhere near the coast. You know, like where grass actually grows. Green stuff instead of that crap on the ground called dry sand and rocks.
I’m tired of not sleeping and living my life for every one else. I’m tired of living in this horrid place.
Maybe I should ask my psychiatrist to up my Prozac dosage.
I am sick of being a cynical bitch today.
I never knew you were sexy and romantic until recently.
I mean, yes, you’re a hottie. Your body is amazing. Chiseled with a small, tight ass, long muscular legs. Your huge lips and beautiful hazel eyes. Soft, soft skin. *sigh*
But I’ve been with you for 8 & 1/2 years… married to you for half of that… and you’ve always been just kind of… cute and silly and cuddly and lovable.
And I just want to say that since you’ve taken the steps to actually be a man instead of a boy, you have really started to knock my socks off.
I mean, this is the kind of stuff that tops what you see in the movies. You made a believer out of me.
Holy hell, I am so glad I fell in love with you.
P.S. I’m wearing *really* trashy panties today…
Current Mood:
Flirtatious
What’s worse… just thinking it, or actually coming out and saying it?
Is there a lesser of the two evils here?
And why, oh why, do I have zero verbal impulse control sometimes…
Current Mood:
Mischievous