(no subject)
Hmmm... it's been a while, LJ. I really don't care about you anymore. But I promise I'll come back every now and then to check in. See if you're still running, that sort of thing.
It's four in the morning and I'm wide awake. The lights are out, but I can see my hands in the glow from my screen. I have skinny, ugly hands, I think. When I type the blood gets flowing faster and the veins stand out on the backs of them; they would look less out of place on the arms of those guys you see playing chess in the park, their skin all wrinkled and papery. I've often wished I had better looking hands. And every time I wish that, I then wish that I weren't the kind of person who worries about what other people think of his hands. Of course, at four in the morning you tend to think of all kinds of stupid things, hands being just one subject among many, many other even more pointless subjects. At the moment I'm discussing my hands because they're pretty much all I can see besides the edges of my eight-ball pajama pants and my cup full of mountain dew, which I shouldn't be drinking.
Heh, there's a ladybug on my chest. Scared the hell out of me.
I'm upset. I'm upset for reasons I won't discuss but I think it's pretty obvious that something's wrong when I'm awake at four AM, talking about how I'm awake at four AM. I'm tired of being upset, as always. And as always I know that me saying that I'm tired of being upset won't change the fact that I am, ultimately, going to continue being upset. Depression is a funny, frustrating thing.
I sent someone a present today. I hope they like it.
It's four in the morning and I'm wide awake. The lights are out, but I can see my hands in the glow from my screen. I have skinny, ugly hands, I think. When I type the blood gets flowing faster and the veins stand out on the backs of them; they would look less out of place on the arms of those guys you see playing chess in the park, their skin all wrinkled and papery. I've often wished I had better looking hands. And every time I wish that, I then wish that I weren't the kind of person who worries about what other people think of his hands. Of course, at four in the morning you tend to think of all kinds of stupid things, hands being just one subject among many, many other even more pointless subjects. At the moment I'm discussing my hands because they're pretty much all I can see besides the edges of my eight-ball pajama pants and my cup full of mountain dew, which I shouldn't be drinking.
Heh, there's a ladybug on my chest. Scared the hell out of me.
I'm upset. I'm upset for reasons I won't discuss but I think it's pretty obvious that something's wrong when I'm awake at four AM, talking about how I'm awake at four AM. I'm tired of being upset, as always. And as always I know that me saying that I'm tired of being upset won't change the fact that I am, ultimately, going to continue being upset. Depression is a funny, frustrating thing.
I sent someone a present today. I hope they like it.