When you know you officially fucked up an opportunity and it’s over and it’s over and there’s nothing you can do. It feels calm and fine and hey, I think there’s a wave of tears back there. Huh. Oh yeah, you’re right. Wonder if it’s gonna reach me. Break over me, or roll and roll and roll. I wasted a week of my life. A weak weak week I could and should have spent looking for other means of income. I don’t know if that bothers me more or less than the failure itself. I’m not supposed to fail, that isn’t my thing. I have a BA and can’t even get a job that pays $12 an hour. Maybe I would find that bitterly hilarious if I were feeling things. I think it’s mostly aimlessness and uselessness I feel, behind the numbness. Two weeks from Friday the rent is due. I have nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Pennies to my name and no way to find more. Hopes as substantial as ghosts. Ideas as good as half burnt toast. Tomorrow (later today) I will drag my sad flesh prison to the gym, because it is a promise from me to me. And I’m sorry I’m so sorry for this weak willed week. Hey, me, I’m so fucking sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me and we can find a way to move forward. For now I’m going to sit alone downstairs for a while and listen to music and chew on a piece of plastic. I’m also going to re-read all of Sunstone, because I saw it mentioned on tumblr and I love it and i find it somehow comforting and it makes me feel something at least.