Cotton

Hey. Yeah. Yeah. Hey. Feeling restless and feckless and spending a month in Nicaragua doesn’t sound too bad to me. I still haven’t heard back about anything, and it’s driving me sort of insane. I e-mailed the tour guide lady yesterday in response to that whole possible job thing and I haven’t heard back yet. I haven’t heard back from the grad school program I applied to either. It’s only been a week, but already I just can’t fucking help but thinking that they rejected me and they just aren’t going to say shit to me, like how the last program I applied to wasn’t going to say shit to me until I contacted them and then they were like… oh, yeah, oh, here’s a PDF rejection letter. Enjoy. Like fuck dude. I know I shouldn’t be basing my future around the idea that I’m going to get in, but I can’t help it. Also, they’re raising our rent by $50 per month, which just generally sucks whole buffets of cocks. Like I have $50 extra bucks just lying around? Naw man, I don’t. Also, I just read back and noticed a fucking typo in the last e-mail I sent the tour lady, so now I can’t help but think that that’s why she didn’t get back to me, because she thinks I’m a fucking idiot who can’t even spot a typo, and therefore does not deserve employment. And hey, maybe I am and maybe I don’t. Tight. Cool. Cool. Tight. I feel so stressick, honestly. piling weights on myself and holding it. Holding it and nothing but my goal to lighten. I should be prepping myself for sleep, but I’m so so so so restless and anxious, I know that it’s going to come hard. (phrasing)  Heavy is the head. Heavy is the clever heart. Hey, check it out, a bunny!

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