Since I have to blame someone for the development of the eye bags that my glasses fortunately conceal, I am blaming Zeus and all his cool deity pals, why? Well because the muses have been visiting me lately from 1 am to 5 am, and it's not even one of those sexy time visits like Borat would put it, it's more of a how insane can I get my story to be visits. But whatever, it's alright.
The past two days, as I wander through day time without a single goal except to reach night time so I can write, I've wondered over my issues and surrender seems like the obvious choice, that way my eye bags won't matter, nor will it matter if I eat a white chocolate brownie covered with ice cream and caramel, but no, my mind isn't really letting me quit, despite my tendencies to run away from the world and live inside my own mind, I can't do that.
Perhaps some concealer will help whenever I get contacts, yes make up, I hate eye bags, they make you look like a zombie, and not even a good looking zombie, a malnourished zombie that hasn't eaten fresh meat in months. Yes, I don't care about what people say, I haven't for a long time.
Though to be honest, I haven't really discussed much of what I want to discuss with everyone, I don't care what they think, but I also hate confrontations and drama and it's bound to happen. So yeah, even though I have been over it with some people, I am not looking forward to the future right now. I need a job, so I can get some booze every night and sleep well, and yes I know how that sounds, when I read this in ten years I'll either be worse, or think of this as rock bottom. But fuck it.
I doubt anyone even reads this, which is my journal since I apparently can't write in physical form much, my handwriting is a bunch of hieroglyphics anyway. In other news, Chapter 9 of my novel is done, and I am happy about the way the story is shaping up. It's interesting, it ties in with things I like and I can make use of a lot of my knowledge about trivial stuff, it's kind of cool when I think about it. Can't wait for it to be finished, 50,000 words already, only 30,000 for it to be novel material and I don't think I'll have a problem with that. Plus I already have ideas for other two stories and a fun and not intrusive way to interlace them with each other and pop culture.
For whenever I read this someday, you are a pussy, your life is in the limbo, except for the book, all because you don't know how to handle it, just decide something already and go with it, either way december is going to come and it's going to be worse.