cimorene

and the day just got shittier and i hate myself sometimes. i can't blame the medicine for allowing me to become depressed--it's all external, now, i think. if something happens to depress me i get depressed, and those fuckers having killed my mouse isn't even the worst of today so far. used up phone card talking to dad and god, i need that paycheck, because i have to add more minutes to it and i--.

i don't believe in fate. magic. any diety whatsoever. luck.

i'm afraid to say what i want anyway.

what is the power of a word?

god.

tomorrow.