Macaroni-and-cheesing life away… again
Aside from that deliciousness, I’m inclined to be sad. It’s been a time. Quite the time.
And time is not the nicest thing.
I haven‘t had a day this depressing in a long ass time. Work isn’t “bad”, it’s just busy and complicated. I’m so tired, paranoid, and oddly blank about it. I felt dizzy too.
Must rejuvenate and “unblank” self. Would more sleep fix this? A book? A mental health day? Probably all of the above.
I hate feeling like I don’t live up to others expectations. That being said, I think a lot of it is my morbidly inclined imagination.
I can’t decide who to like. Or who to reach out to. I have my beautiful staples but I want more. Not everyone fits.
I want what I give: listening and nonjudgmental ears. Laughs. Maybe it’s selfish to want more. The ones I have that do these things are an integral part of me. But there’s a part of me that feels unreachable. Secret things I have done that flabbergast me.
I think I’ve said all this before in variations.
Mallory Pancakes snuck into the garage last night, and then quietly snuck herself back in. She thought she was being so slick. But the kicker is that she can’t close the door that leads from the laundry room to the garage, and I smelled a rat (or maybe she did?) when I saw it open.
She’s sniffing my Mac and cheese now. She’s my world. We’re a sassy duo.
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