To keep from cursing
God... I wish I wrote more. I need to. I feel very sick at the moment. My hair is filthy and I look awful. It's almost Xmas... the stress is subtle and autumnal. The sadness is seeping. I am sitting at work, at my desk, and I can't imagine being anywhere else. That scares me. I really can't think of what to write, so hopefully I will be able to write later. I feel a lot. It's just so jumbled. With the grace of a corpse in a riptide, I let go.