There's a tiger in my tank.
I've used that title before. I don't care. It was likely as a teenager in my old LJ.
Anywhoodle:
5 years. 2 mos. 6 days.
I'm a few days away from having survived 39 consecutive years of life.
What a fucking trip. How old was I when I started this journal? I'm afraid to look back. I don't want to get sucked into old entries again.
I'm currently sitting on CPau's futon on the last night of cat-sitting Urza (her grey dude). I hate a sleeve of cocoa batons, and am having regrets.
Sugar makes my brain misfire. It causes the cute little angsty part of autism to kick in stronger, and I had to bite my hoodie to make my panic settle down.
Hanging out with Urza has made me miss Ari and Jo quite fiercely. I've cried a lot in the last 11 days. He's a lot like both of them. All the cuddly bits of Ari with the tenacity of Jo. He's currently upset that I'm not going upstairs to bed.
I just felt the need to make a new post. I was supposed to try and document my moods and feelings while I was here, but definitely didn't do that. Between work, having access to a television/HBO, and this indoor/outdoor cat, I don't think I had time/energy to think about how I was feeling. Or my mental health in general.
I think I might like to use this to suss out my brain a bit more. This is much easier on my hands than writing these days.
Also, I quit cooking earlier this year. I now work at a cult-like "neighborhood" chain grocery store. It's nicer.