(no subject)
Been up since exactly 3:57 due to Quinn's computer antics. I swear to god, if this shit doesn't stop, I'm going to wind up in the loony bin. Between bad sleep, insane amounts of stress, and the seasonal depression that's just around the corner, I have this feeling that they're getting a room ready for me at Hutchings.
Told him that if he doesn't change his hours by the end of the week that I'm breaking up with him and moving the fuck out.
It's not so much that he's always playing fucktarded CoV. It's that he loses track of time and plays it into the wee hours of the morning. Now. This is a problem for me because I can't sleep; I can only really doze. It's like... trying to dive into deeper water while wearing a life jacket. The life jacket keeps pulling you up to the surface, so even though you can still stick your head under water, you really can't get down deep to where you need to be. That's what it's like trying to sleep with Quinn at the computer.
And so I'm miserable the vast majority of the time.
Bah. It's not like I don't tell him I have to be up at 5AM at the latest most days.
Whatever. I don't even fucking care anymore. Life is nothing but numb, unless I'm pissed, in which case the urge to beat the everliving shit out of things reminds me of the fact that I'm turning into my father is enough to barely restrain me.
...
Fuck it.
Told him that if he doesn't change his hours by the end of the week that I'm breaking up with him and moving the fuck out.
It's not so much that he's always playing fucktarded CoV. It's that he loses track of time and plays it into the wee hours of the morning. Now. This is a problem for me because I can't sleep; I can only really doze. It's like... trying to dive into deeper water while wearing a life jacket. The life jacket keeps pulling you up to the surface, so even though you can still stick your head under water, you really can't get down deep to where you need to be. That's what it's like trying to sleep with Quinn at the computer.
And so I'm miserable the vast majority of the time.
Bah. It's not like I don't tell him I have to be up at 5AM at the latest most days.
Whatever. I don't even fucking care anymore. Life is nothing but numb, unless I'm pissed, in which case the urge to beat the everliving shit out of things reminds me of the fact that I'm turning into my father is enough to barely restrain me.
...
Fuck it.