otherwise known as the story of my fucking life
I initiated contact with a loved one, I got what I deserved. I am a sadder and wiser person. I have cried more tears, but that’s okay. You have to be alive to cry.
I reached out to other loved ones. Both responded more or less instantly, helps that it’s midday Sunday, I guess. They got a hand under me apiece with their soft words and kindness and then I told, hopefully briefly enough, the source of my woes to Jeff. I tried to watch March Madness with him but I’m too fidgety.
Please be nice to the people you love by asking them what constitutes nice for them. And then… behaving that way. You can’t be nice to a person who interprets your every breath as hostile.
I have a headache from crying and I need to stop looking at a screen but between that word and this I’ve put in 812 words on my novel. Watching history repeat itself is so hard, but being history is worse.
Wrote a letter to Lois.
I’m going to have the last of Mike’s congee, watch an Elementary with Jeff and CRASH.
