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I am tired of crying, but not yet too tired to cry.
I am sitting in bed, in a cocoon of blankets, sipping herbal tea and whiskey and thinking something along these lines: “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.”
Speaking of which, I am listening to the couple in the bedroom next to mine fuck. Not actively listening, just can’t help but hear. And they aren’t even loud, it’s just the way sound carries in this house. They don’t actually seem to be enjoying it much.
I had a long day, but not a terrible one. I got a long-overdue pedicure, which until today I’ve been too sad or tired to go do (blah blah first world problems fuck you), and I emailed a bunch of people about places to rent. The one place I was hopeful about that I went to look at today, the guy wasn’t there and wasn’t answering his phone. He called me back about an hour later, he’d been held up at work, and we rescheduled. The feeling I have now is that that won’t be the place, but I’m looking tomorrow, after I look at another place that I think might be good.
I didn’t see Dad today because I suck at time management, and I kind of scheduled my whole day around looking at that one apartment, and by the time I hadn’t looked at it, I was too tired and it was too late. I’d have gotten to Pops at 7, maybe 7:30, and that would have possibly meant I wouldn’t get home until 10:30 or 11. It takes about an hour to get home from the BV. Which is a big part of why I’m moving again so soon: an hour to work, an hour to Dad, it’s too much. That’s a minimum of three hours commuting on work days, and you don’t live and work in Oakland to spend three hours a day commuting.
I had to pick up some stuff at the yarn store by work, and there is a sign in the door that they’re hiring part-time help. I talked to the girl behind the counter, and she gave me an email address to send my resume. (I don’t have a resume tailored to anything but coffee shop work. I don’t know if I should just send the one I have or if I should wait the however long until I get the peripherals for my computer and get it set up and can edit my resume.) I’d love to work at a yarn store. It would probably be a little boring. I imagine I’d get a lot of knitting done, though.
An ex(?)crackhead on the bus gave me some testimony about Jesus today, and told me that I have a righteous heart and that I do believe in God, even if I don’t know it yet. I don’t know why I encouraged him. Too tired to give him an effective brush-off, I guess. He told me to just say Jesus’ name sometime. Okay. I do that all the time. He said, “Why do you think God created people?” and I said, “I don’t think God created people,” and he said, “Exactly! To care for the planet earth.” Lol.
The couple in the next room are talking about Real Housewives now, I think. I want to just slip a note under the door that says “I. Can. Hear. Every. Thing.”
I am trying to remember that it is better to be crying than to be too tired to cry. Too tired to cry is a hollow, horrid, scary place. Too tired to cry is your toes on the edge of a diving board, over an empty pool. I think I am about two feet from the edge of the board right now. I don’t know how many days are in a foot.
I know that whenever you stand on that edge, you don’t come all the way back. I’m okay with that if I can just come a little bit of the way back, soon.
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golfie liked this
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themikestand said:
Real Housewives is the new Snuggling, I hear.
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