i mean, waking up multiple times throughout the night multiple times during the week in tears is just not normal.
i hate i hate i HATE this.
and it's just like ... everyone has expectations from me except for him. he doesn't expect anything from me. which is nice. i don't have to act anything...i don't have to pretend everything's ok, i can break down, i don't have to blatantly lie that i'm fine, i swear, hehehe! i don't have to laugh, i don't have to smile, but i do anyway.
i mean, fuck. everything's all very fucked up.
joanna said she might know someone who wants to move in to my shitty room, which might leave me in san francisco 5 months ahead of schedule.
it's a pipe dream, but a dream nonetheless.
i should go back on pills.
i had a surprisingly productive day yesterday, which is always nice. i got home and smoked the remnants of michelle's pot and got ready to spend the day watching sad movies, but then i thought, dude! i should clean my car! so i did! three huge trashbags and one trip to a self-service car vacuum later and my car is spic and span (for the nanosecond...i attract messes like honey attracts flies ... does honey attract flies?). driving back from the car wash place i decided today was the day to get my washington registration for my beloved tercel, so i go to the place only to discover i need the pink slip (uhh...please be in my car...) and an emissions test. so i get the emissions test, which involved waiting in a running car for a half hour in manic amounts of hail, and, wonder of wonders, pass. of course, i have no time and no money to get the registration and they don't take credit, so it'll have to wait til aaron gets his paycheck, which is the 7th, and my registration expires on the 8th....i'll figure something out, i suppose.
in the midst of all this errand running, i managed to get two loads of laundry done. multitask, woot.
i'm starting to freak out about going back to santa barbara ... five straight days of "no, really, everything's great in seattle!" ok, i guess the jib is up. everything is not great in seattle. but please, if you love me, don't spend my vacation telling me how i'm fucking up. i get enough of that from myself. mmmkay? next weekend is about fun, god dammit. well, fun and the requisite drunken orgy.