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mood |
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 contemplative |
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music |
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You Can't Have It All - Ash |
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I fucking hate Sundays. Not only do they mean the end of one week, thus another one wasted, but they also indicate a whole new Monday to come. The last five days have been seven shades of shit, with waiting for those test results. I originally had taken a urine sample to the doc because I thought the stuff was going to burn a hole through the toilet it was that acidic and dark yellow. I maybe shouldn’t be talking about it in such detail, but if you’re morbid enough to follow my journal, you can handle hearing about my dodgy piss. Anyway, she dipsticked it and said it was showing up white blood cells, so she sent me away with a five-day course of anti-biotics and said she’d send the sample to the lab as routine. To cut a long story of excessive anxiety short, it came back saying they didn’t need to take any further action on it. I think the reason I got so fucked up about it was because I used to drink a fair bit of bourbon for like a year when I was 17. It was the only way I could deal with things at the time; fight or flight. In other news, I got my college interview through the post. I was half asleep at the time I opened it, especially since it was caught between the bills, so I didn’t pay attention and ended up missing it because I thought it was Thursday instead of Tuesday. I called them and they’re rearranging it, but I’m still in two minds of where I want to go with it. It’ll take me a couple of years to finish my highers, but I’ve no idea where I want to go after there. I’m seriously considering going into sound engineering or something to do with music. I was gonna take the easy way out and work with computers but stuck in an office until my retirement would kill my spirit. I think I need to be around music, if I’m not playing it myself. Speaking of needing to be around things - my head is drowning in its own confusion. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, but I’ve been having girl problems, fucking goopy, emo ones. It’s like a really fucking long, never-ending thing, but it seems like every time we talk, I get that stupid, irrational feeling that I shouldn’t be getting, and that we agreed I wouldn’t. Mentioning it would be raking it all up again, I know that, and part of me knows how really unfair it would be, but for once, I don’t know what to do. When I did eventually lay down last night, I considered that maybe I’m being selfish and that if I ignore it, it’ll fizzle out in time. I think it will. I mean it might if I let it. It’s just hard when she’s throwing it in my face all the time and being all… her. My quest as a gay, non-woman loving man is failing me and I have absolutely no control over it, do I? I’m going to counteract the emo, girlish emotion by saying, ‘TITFUCKCOCKPHEASANTS!’ Lastly, I'll just update on my shots. The next one should be around the 25th of this month. For a while, I thought they were slowing down or my body was overcoming them or some shit, but my voice is practically unrecognisable. I'm glorying in the muscle mass too. I feel like such a beefcake, baby. I can't think of anything else... except maybe that I need to shave almost daily now, otherwise I spend all the time scratching the insane itch under my chin, making people want to kill me. Photos should follow.
Over’n’out, pilgrim.
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shaunie_boy's journal