The Drunken Ramblings of a Young (not-so-very) Professional.
The cold, lately.
I know I’m fucking redundant; welcome to the goddamn jungle.
I’ve spent a lot of time, lately, making decisions that are (theoretically) to advance myself and yet I see none of the profits. My eyes, sunken in and my hands, waxen, I’m forever in a state of exhausted anxiety.
It started after I was sick.
Mood swings (clearly more of a personality quirk than a temporary state of being) became rampant and my passive-aggressive attacks on those nearest to me we’re obvious: I was being a total dick.
And then, the paranoia. The drinking. The stress. The sleepwalking. The crying. The anxiety. The nosebleeds. The sallow skin and translucent, constantly dialated pupils. And the nausea; the nausea is the worst! Out of nowhere a wave of sickness like the early signs of conception without the possibility. Standing, moving, blinking makes my head swim in schools.
“It’s just stress.”
Of course it’s fucking stress what else the fuck can it be you fuck?
“Maybe you’re feeling overwhelmed.”
Oh? Really? Srsly like omg?
I don’t know where I come off having the audacity to stress over stupid shut but I most certainly do (I’m a woman).
No. There’s not a well thought out conclusion to this drunken ramble. I’m just so damn tired.