The Last-Minute Creepers
This morning the banks were closed (fucking veterans), and because of that I've been Man-PMSing all day. Now I'm having anxiety attacks because this weekend trip has become far more complex than I thought, and the added difficulties cause me to blank and throw fits. It's ridiculous if I look at it logically, but then I start to hyperventilate and logic goes right out the window. What the fuck? This turns out to be a much more important trip than I realize - getting away from Jersey for a little while, leaving the state on my own (work in NYC doesn't count). But fuck, man, I didn't do anything last night except mail my rent. I didn't move my bookcases or write. It's just easier to curl up into the fetal position. Training myself to not to do that anymore, but fucking goddamn shit this is tougher than tackling a tank. Take it slow. Calm down. Stop freaking out. Relax. This is nothing.