I feel as though I'm living with part of me asleep. Not all of me, mind you, because I can still function through the day. It just seems to take a lot longer to grab on to something that can get me excited. Perhaps it's my body adjusting to the routine mundane-ness that is my current life. People have suggested that I get out of the house more, and maybe I agree.

There really isn't anything I feel like doing other than reading. I've started a new romance novel just because I can't finish East of Eden (on account of it's so damn slow). Part of me wishes that I could just go to a coffee shop with a book and meet an amazing stranger guy and chat his ear off, but those kinds of things don't often happen to me. (normally I'd bitch about how if I were like 30 lbs lighter maybe it would, but I don't even have the energy for that)

So pina coladas and lying half-naked on a blanket in the backyard.. You know you've hit an all-time low when that becomes an appealing prospect. I wish my neighborhood wasn't so crappy or I'd go out and read on some lawn somewhere. Ah well.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Long pause~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So Josh just laid some heavy news on me. It's heavier than I ever could have expected, and since I came here straightaway after it I suppose I'm reeling in shock, maybe? But that initial plummet of the stomach I usually get after bad news wasn't there, or perhaps it hasn't come yet. At times, my tendency to speedread gets the best of me and I suppose I'm unable to process information. We'll see what I'm thinking about it in the morning.

At this point, though, I think I'm qualified enough to hold the belief that some people just aren't meant to be together. Hard lessons, man.