I woke today at 2:30 after four aborted attempts at pulling myself from strange dreams. My stomach lurched with hunger and anxiety about my continued unemployment. "If you really need a job you can just get one." It runs through my head over and over, each loop a fresh strike to my lazy and spoiled brow. I want to throw up, but not really, so instead I read for a while.
By the time I get out of bed it's nearly 5:00 and I know it would have been even later had I not been extremely hungry by that point. I remember that my horoscope for the day said something about overwhelming creative energy so I start to do some art while I wait for my coffee to boil. I finish my breakfast and am honestly feeling creative in a way that I haven't in months. It was unbelievably nice so I stuck with it for the rest of the day, starting with an idle drawing of a fancy frame then moving onto drawing gay smut while I listened to God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater.
All I wanted to say was that I spent my day feeling terrible for a little while but then feeling considerably less terrible later on and that's not so bad when you get down to it. I can spend a lot of time sulking around because things aren't the way I think they aught to be in my life but I don't think I should anymore. It's not helping anyone and doesn't endear me to anybody.
These sickly nights that turn to morning are all I've ever asked.
These useless words that aren't hardly poetry are all I ever intended.
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