Once upon a time, I was sad…
…and I wrote letters and emails that somehow make me more sad now. It included stuff like:
But then again, I don’t want to be alone. I’m not a promiscuous person (physically, emotionally or otherwise), but I’ve just wanted to be with other people, to interact with them. I miss talking to strangers, creating awkward moments.
So far I’ve spent today sick at home, with some weird cough that has started to subside. It’s given me some sort of husky, phone sex operator voice…with the accompanying mucus of course. Okay, so in short, this weekend, I’m going to be talking to my dad on the phone, avoiding most other human contact (though, dammit, I need milk).
P.S. Thanks for offering to be my prison pen pal. That’s being a true friend. Or sicko.