Weirdness
Wow, is it weird that I decide to post in my Livejournal after a three year absence? Or would it sound more plausible if I told you that I write for a living now? All that shit I write four years ago about hating that summer bank job and wishing I had an interesting job in journalism even if it didn't pay that great - well it came true - all my dreams came true. Except I'm not sure if it's what I really dreamed - maybe that's something for a Neil Gaiman novel because it is fucked up beyond belief. I can't sleep - brain frazzled - sure I've checked in on my child of self several times and patted myself on the head and sighed, possibly shed a tear or two, but isn't it both glorious and depressing when you realise that you have no more tears to shed?
I'll be back. I need this.
I'll be back. I need this.