I write because, today in particular, I’m having a very crappy day. It’s nothing that anyone’s done; I’m not put upon, I’m not stressed, there’s no explanation for it. I’m just in a very foul mood, and everything is getting under my skin. I write because when things are better, I want to look back on today and remember how crappy I felt then, and how optimistic I was (or wasn’t) that things would improve.
I write because it’s Christmas. There is not a flipping thing up at my house right now. Nothing. And I doubt we’ll get at tree this year.. there’s just nowhere to put it, and quite frankly, the money could be better spent elsewhere. There are no cookies, no fresh-baked bread, or anything else I’ve come to associate with the holiday. It as if Christmas only exists on the outside of my house. I write because next year, when we’re in a different house, and things are hectic and green and sparkly and perfect, I can look back and realize how far we’ve come.
I write because I’m busy. I had to quit a project because I was too overbooked, and my calendar is still nuts for the upcoming months. Add in that I’ve not done ANYTHING to plan a wedding, and I’m a bit stressed. When it’s all over, next August, I want to be able to look back and think, “Yeah, amazingly, I pulled it all off.”
I write because I’m on the verge of tears, for absolutely no reason. Be it season, hormonal, or emotional.. I’m a wreck today. My body hurts from being so tired, my mind hurts from going non-stop for what seems like months, and my heart hurts for not being stronger than this. I write because when I’m well-rested and healthy again, I want to be able to be thankful for the peace I’ve found.
I write because I watched a really retarded “Trading Spouses” last night, and I want to share with you incredibly retarded it was.
I write because I can. And I need to. And because, eventually, you’ll read it.
