Called her phone just out of curiosity—can’t find her cell number in my in-box, of course I lost it with all her voice mails. Her machine answered—can’t believe how hard my heart was beating… even on mute with *67.

I’ll figure something out

I always do

I guess that’s what it comes down to. On any given day I’d rather be posting to reddit about Dominican baseball or trying to write a letter in Latin than looking for work.

Listened to this TAL and didn’t want to break down crying in the parking lot and now I’ve got a headache.

“The days are long but the years are short” has never seemed truer.

Like of Montreal’s line, “just slept way too much.” The idea is that I want to throw myself into something to forget/not think about it. But I can’t throw myself into anything, can never reach a state of flow because of constantly intruding depressive thoughts.

I just want to lie down and sleep so they go away.

Last week, after being so caught up in the run-up to Christmas, and being so proud of myself for actually having money for gifts this year and having my shit together, I lost all my voicemails, including all the saved ones from ariadnæ. Gutted.

current mood:

I don’t know how long I thought they’d wait… Actually, no, knowing ariadnæ I guess I thought it would be months, if not years… but it was probably already months in the making

How many should’ve-been-work days have I dedicated to instructing this slut or waiting on her e-mails?

She replied. Can’t believe how hard my heart’s pounding.

It’s probably perfect/not good that I spent all night reading S’enfuir while waiting for ariadnæ to (not) reply.

La tortuguita and ariadnæ are over me. I’m just not over them.

Hell, even la doctora has found she has better ways to spend her time.