Sinking Ship

Fuck, I'm depressed. I suppose I'm supposed to feel like this. But I'm tired of it. I want a better job. I want a car. I want to not hurt about losing Michael. I want the pipes in my bathroom to stop making that horrible noise. I want my house totally clean and all my laundry done. I want to sit and paint. I want all my projects finished. I want to feel appreciated and wanted (and not just for making dinner and cleaning up after people). I want a good book to read. I want someone to think I'm irresistably sexy. I want to laugh and smile so much my face hurts and my stomache is sore. I want a new pair of shoes. I want to sleep until noon. I want to see a good movie and eat a great meal. I want to look at art work and snicker with someone when it's ugly. I want to write my name in wet cement. I want to make something so fabulous that I amaze even myself. I want to go back to faire. I want to be independent but not alone... yet maybe alone. I want to sit and not think so much, too much to make me sad. I others to care about me as much as I care about them. I want things to be good.

*sigh*

It's okay. I'm just heartbroken and feeling lonely. I'm depressed about feeling stagnant in life - I was before I became heartbroken. At the moment I'm not able to see over the hole I've dug for myself. I'll climb out of this, but I'm just indulging in my own self pitty right now. I don't usually do this, but I suppose a few minutes of it won't hurt. I'll be fine, my heart will mend and things will be good for me.

I should go now. Karaokee calls.