my head hurts. i did something i ought not to have earlier. but i feel peaceful and sleepy now, except not really, so who knows. argh. argh. argh. it's just a poor reaction to stress, and i don't even feel that stressed, but i know i am. where's my xanax, damnit? i like how the question mark came after the damnit, as though i were questioning my choice of profanities.

i really think i am just too tired and worked up to be intelligent. i feel like moping. it feels so much later than ten thirty. i want amanda. i want to go home for a while. i want my mommy and my sister and my puppy and kitty and my car and getting to drive around plano and be warm and tan and know where i am all the time and where people are and have them smile back at me instead of being socially awkward and trying to avoid any eye contact at all, or smelling funny and so on. i just want something. i want forever. i want now. Yearning: a love story. I want to write my memoirs and spend my days working out and wandering and maybe swim again and be a girlie girl and make endless cookies that i leave for my friends and give to others and have pets and a nest of pillows below a bay window and sunshine and rain and flowers and music and magic and hope.