Womp

Lying in my bed. It's 6:17. It's dark in my room, except for my skeleton lights. I'm wearing the dress I wore today, the dress I've worn for the past few days and slept in the past few nights.

A bit gross, huh? I'm not catatonic right now, I could change my clothes. I guess I'm just lazy.

Today has flown by. Time passes more quickly, now, somehow. It's not that it's better spent, it's just that I barely even have to check the clock through out the day, because the hours carry themselves along fine on their own. Time never drags anymore.

Although I can't say that time has ever really "dragged on" for me. I usually become absorbed in my own thoughts, and so maybe the rapid passing of time has been normal and will always be normal.

I'm waiting for a phone call from my mother.

I talked to my sister for nearly an hour earlier this afternoon. She sounded good. I started laughing about something and couldn't stop for a few minutes.

I think it's because I don't laugh that much now. That sounds awful, but it's sort of true!

It's not that I don't feel happy, it's just that I live alone, I am essentially friendless, not really but effectively, sort of, and I don't often find occasion to belly laugh.

When I'm home I laugh more. I laugh at work. I guess I just don't laugh so much because I'm alone so much, and laughing alone for large amounts of time might be characterized as insanity.

I finished a book of ghost stories today, and also ate a tuna, lettuce, cheese, and pickle sandwich. I painted a bad, but not very bad, oil painting. I felt frustrated at the bank and did not clean my room. I did not want to be submerged in large crowds.

I considered walking to a park this afternoon but then I talked to my sister on the beanbag chair in the corner of my room and didn't feel like walking to the park, even though the sky was gray and it was not raining and the air was cool.