~*Just a little something I wrote and thought I'd post, since I'm bored and can't sleep. Image is one I made a whiiiiiiiiile back and never posted because I didn't like it. Thanks for viewing, comments welcome as always.*~ Dear Self, I’m sitting here and wondering what exactly there is to be said at a time like this, where sleep is impossible and my dreams are terrible and my future is questionable and the rest of my life just seems to be in one huge shamble. It’s enough to send me into a fit. In fact, I think it has several times. That might be what all the crying has been about. Damn, damn it all if it wasn’t so hard to believe the "it’ll be okay" lectures. It’s to a point where it all sounds fine and dandy, and really nice, but not possible. Or so out of reach that you wonder if you’ll break your arm trying to grab it. I wish you could be productive while you slept, since when I get depressed my first instinct is to curl up and fall asleep. It’s not like it fixes anything, and I don’t feel better afterward, but at least my eyes are closed and the world ceases to pry them open for a little while. It’s a childlike response and it drives me crazy that I even think that way still, but when you get to the point that trying just seems like a waste of time you start to wonder what else you have to lose by sleeping through it all. Poor mom, with her teeth; I feel so bad that she’s in that much pain and there’s nothing I can do to help. I think that’s the problem, you know. The whole not being able to help thing. I’m a fixer. I like to fix things. But when nothing I do can fix it, it tends to mess with my head. Helplessness is a really unsettling feeling. And of course, you can’t control the Universe, nor can you warp the path of Fate. In other words, as of right now, I’m screwed. Huzzah. Nose is doing better, thank the Gods. Paul said it’s likely that I scratched my poor piercing in my sleep, which made it bleed. And I do agree, it seemed really unlikely that it got snagged to the point of it bleeding like that without my knowing it. Because it would be very, very painful. But at least the mild infection has gone away and it’s just bleeding a little now instead of doing its best "I’m a stuck pig" impression. According to Paul, the only thing that can be done now is to keep cleaning it and see what happens. Another thing I can’t fix, but I sure as hell can help it along some. My father is still being an asshole, but that’s nothing new. Moon is in my sign again. Which may explain why I’ve been such an emotional wench lately. It’s not a total scapegoat, because there IS a lot going on right now, but it certainly adds to the flurry. Ugh. I’m off to bed, likely to have more nightmares. Happy, happy. Perhaps my next entry will be a little more cheerful. I hope so. I could use it. Till then, with love, as ever, -Summer, age 19