Topsy Turvy
My world spins like a whirly-gig, with my emotional and physical health at the centre, spun right round , twisted into misshape. It, the combined emotionophysical landscape of self, wants to get off and throw up. I need more sleep, yoga, and stability. Despite this, the carnival of coil has ceased being awful and now seems to be fun, even though nausea has begun to set in. Everything seems so full of promise, or at least not actively destructive. Come now, my little routines, work yourselves up out of this new pattern forged from iron, molten though it may be.
I need a bath. Right after I install iTunes.
Written On: Home Computer