Second post today.
Sitting here at Rich's house, watching Bela Lugosi's Dracula, I've realized that I'm not at all happy with my life. I've worked so goddamn hard for everything that I have and everywhere that I've gotten, but I don't want most of it. Forty goddamn milligrams of Prozac won't help the fact that I dislike so many things about myself and about my life.
But, I'm sitting here with Hayden in my lap, Dracula on television, and Rico on my head, I'm glad that I have such wonderful times, no matter how few they are. Rico's just shed and he's got a different texture than I'm used to him having. Maybe, though, I need to shed a little. At least make sure my eyecaps come off. Maybe that would help me to change a few things. At the very least, I would have a better moisture barrier.
This is one of those times when I'm so ready to call Mylan and ramble on about I'm so upset about nothing and cry and cry until there aren't any tears left. But, I'm not going to. I'm not even going to call JR. Because, they would both tell me the same thing: "Darling/Pookie, you're so wonderful. You're pretty. You're smart. I love you to death." Somehow, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm tired of hearing how wonderful I am.
But, JR's just called, so I better go call him back.