a wolf angel is not a good angel

Finally, my cat is lying down with me, and I don’t need to go elsewhere (or to the bathroom), I can just enjoy the fact that she is stretching out on my legs.

Of course, there are things I need to do. I am trying not to think about any of it. Which is really working out not at all well for me. I have this anxiety in the pit of my stomach, sitting there. I’m not sure what it’s about.

What did I blog about before I always wrote about how much I am unhappy? I need to find something new to write about.

While I was away last week, I was in a bad place. And, you know, I sort of regret having ever mentioned self-injury, because now when I think of it, I figure hey, why not post about it? Though maybe I don’t regret it so much, because in part I feel I would need to blog if I did it, and I do not want to admit to that, so it’s keeping me saner. Or not, because, you know, it *worked*, so instead I am fretful. Well, and in part it’s weird knowing that people who know me somewhat will know these things. And perhaps other people, people I don’t even know read this. I try not to think about that possibility, because it makes me neurotic.

I thought I was sleeping better, but I am not: when I tried to stand up recently, I almost fell over from exhaustion.

Does this count as coping? I cannot tell.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 30th, 2005 at 12:20 am and is filed under Life and sleeping. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.