These days, going out when it’s my monthly makes me feel worried. My patience is the shortest, my sensitivity on high alert. It’s a challenge to arrive at my destination without getting gripped by emotions and breathing fire on unsuspecting people. And when I do arrive, I hope I get what I came for–apple pies and lemon juice without syrup and ice for today. Only then will I be no threat to anyone.
Ten years from now, what you’re worrying about won’t matter.
But ten years from now doesn’t really matter much.
Now matters more.
What you think about on Sunday nights, while laying in bed, can give you insight on where your life’s heading.
Hope it’s not shit.
It’s frustrating when you’re technically healthy, but can have the potential to be not any time.
Everybody will be ill and die eventually, but to have that possibility hang so close like the sword of someone can get in your nerves.
Should I consider that when deciding for my future or should I just go grab opportunities and let whatever shit hits the fan, hits the fan?
If you find a partner who keeps you titillated like your favorite book or movie or game, you’re doomed.
Normal is good.
A clockwork life.
Not sure what that means.
Not sure it’s what I want.
But maybe here I can find what I don’t.
I like carpeted corridors.
Makes it easier to do my after-lunch walks.
I can get used to this.