Empty/Refill
Oh gods, let that weekend not be repeated a third time.
My mother had the right of it though, my eyes were wild last time, feral. She says me and my brother get that look very rarely, but when we do it worries her.
This weekend wasn't as bad, it included some wonderful moments of distraction, or at least babbling. David, my mild mannered chesse-smuggling organist friend, put up with my babbling for positively hours. If I were to think about you rationally, I would come to the conclusion you do not exist. He also bought me dinner, which was sweet and appreciated.
Nonetheless, I feel like death. You look horrible. I slept in to eleven, and the world is fuzzy, clumsy, and sore.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Death Cab For Cutie