Don’t want to miss a daily, but in no mood to wax poetic about a day that was rather ordinary and brutally full of people. Over peopled. Over talked. Over it.

Knowing myself like I do, I know that something’s not quite right. There’s a bit of an offness in the internal dialogue. I can’t put my finger on it, it’s just a wrong that’s seeping around the edges. Like light under a door. There’s a quality of lightness; you know that somewhere on the other …

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Friday is the worst.  Thinking about that drive, waiting to hear what I already knew. The feeling of having to be “okay” because no one needed to know. The feeling that maybe it was going to be okay because I hadn’t heard. Then knowing it was over. I really think Fridays are the worst. Another …

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