Great Thanks!

When people ask 'how are you?' I feel obligated to say 'Great Thanks!'.

But I guess, we're on my blog, my little stomping territory so I can say whatever the heck I like.

Random reader: So, how are you today?

Mush: I feel awful. I can't understand why chicken takes so long to cook. I have a semi permanent lump in my throat at night time just trying to repress everything. I haven't done laundry- I'm running out of work shirts to wear. It was hailing last night-I'm pretty sure no-one was worried for my safety as I dodged giant golf balls. I think that if I died, I would not leave that much of a Mush shaped hole in the universe- in fact, I think the people most put out by it would actually be the casino. And that's just because they would have to scramble to replace me. It makes my eyes roll into the back of my head just thinking that the people who would miss me the most would be my mum and.. my crappy supervisors..

So Great! Thanks!

That's as funny as I'm going to get tonight, so you may want to stop reading. Right. about. now.

For twenty six years I've been a people person, but this year I've been hurt and rejected so many times, especially by those who profess to love me- that I'm feeling a little bit numb. If I was more lucid and less tired, I would probably develop some sort of complex.

I'm no longer a people person.

I don't know if that's a good thing- all I know is that I'm getting to be more and more like my Dad. I would rather stare at the ceiling than engage in conversation. I would rather go for a drive than go to a party. I still go out when my favourites make me- but more and more I just pike.

I'm much more quiet and seventeen times more cautious. If I was ever watchful before about people hurting me, I'm more on my guard than ever before. And it's not that good a feeling. It's very tiring.

I feel exhausted

There are some really nice people in my life who reach out to be friends with me and I know that they would be awesome friends, but I don't want to do it. I don't have simply have anything left in me to be burned. So I ignore their invites and their overtures, and I feel guilty.

Here's what I want out of life at this very moment:

What I really want to do is just lay on the grass with Mexicana and talk about nothing.

I really really want to talk to Sb, but right now I'm so mad at him that I feel nauseous just thinking about it. So I push it down to my lungs and I exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

I must be spoilt because I get a lump in my throat just thinking about how I can't do these things. And I realise I should suck it up because truly there are worse things and worse problems in the world. But for a long while, the two of them were my world. So.

I'm still looking for something to replace those poles and the only thing that seems to be helping is this whole staring at the ceiling business.