Grappling with the sort of apathy that has me migrating from feeling appalled about crunchy little ladybug bits embedding into my sox to wondering how many ways mutilated ladybug corpses and parts could be used in bold new artwork and designs. I've lost track of how long this ladybug thing has been going on, but it's certainly the longest ever.
Grappling with the sort of morning convo that has me re-explaining why I won't even be looking for @bonenado if he's laid out smashed to bits under the stars for hours and hours because he has me so trained to be used to him wandering off for hours on end without warning and without saying exactly where and not calling in until suddenly he's just back in the house, like magic. Every possible thing that could go wrong next time that I bring up gets fenced with "Oh, you'll come looking for me", like I'll somehow feel a disturbance in his force or something. I'm biting back a lot, but in case anyone missed it, this was the kind of fall that paralyzes and even kills. We could be having convos about how he'd like me to handle a real emergency, just in case, but we're having convos instead about how it'll never happen. Fine, in his delusion he'll always make it back, and if he doesn't I'll magically find him. In my reality, I'll go 8 hours right up into sunset before I even call down to his mom's house to see if he's over there because I'm so used to this. 23 years, guys.
Grappling with getting my anxiety back down at 5 a.m. after I'm left alone in the house for another 12 hours without a soul to talk to in real life. I live in a box. I talk to people digitally. I question everything in the universe in between GET TO WORK and laundry and #napclub and FOCUS!!!
Fortunately, I have a new toy to play with. I got stuck in the portal to hell last night.
I need to go do stuffs. You guys go do stuffs, too. Hugs, hugs, lots more hugs.
