I appear to have turned into the Earl of Can't be Bothered...
Or more accurately the Duchess of What's the Sodding Point.
I keep trying to meet with keechers and monsters only for my neurons to flake at the last minute because that means things like socialising and leaving the flat and apparently whilst quite wanting to do it, I just... don't.
Since monday I've eaten some bread, some ham, some grapes and some gin. (The grapes and gin weren't even mine.) And no, I'm not really hungry. FFS, it's taken me 'til today to make tea and have a shower. Some neurons at the back of my skull would like to get as plastered as a new wall, but that means leaving the flat and speaking to people. Which apparently just isn't gonna happen.
I'd sod off to the Oast, but my father hasn't told me when I can appear and I don't want to talk to him over skype. 'Cos that's almost like telephones and in this mood I sure as fuck don't do telephones. But if I email him he'll want to know why I can't just turn on skype, and if I tell him he'll give me this look and ask if I've been taking my meds. And I'm not dealing with that now either, thanks.
So instead I'm gonna find a book to stare at, or maybe some stupid show, and hope it's bedtime soon so I can wake up tomorrow and do the same thing.
I keep trying to meet with keechers and monsters only for my neurons to flake at the last minute because that means things like socialising and leaving the flat and apparently whilst quite wanting to do it, I just... don't.
Since monday I've eaten some bread, some ham, some grapes and some gin. (The grapes and gin weren't even mine.) And no, I'm not really hungry. FFS, it's taken me 'til today to make tea and have a shower. Some neurons at the back of my skull would like to get as plastered as a new wall, but that means leaving the flat and speaking to people. Which apparently just isn't gonna happen.
I'd sod off to the Oast, but my father hasn't told me when I can appear and I don't want to talk to him over skype. 'Cos that's almost like telephones and in this mood I sure as fuck don't do telephones. But if I email him he'll want to know why I can't just turn on skype, and if I tell him he'll give me this look and ask if I've been taking my meds. And I'm not dealing with that now either, thanks.
So instead I'm gonna find a book to stare at, or maybe some stupid show, and hope it's bedtime soon so I can wake up tomorrow and do the same thing.