This week couldn't be a to a shittier start (pardon my language) but, it's just been awful. I don't really want to get into the details of it. I'm pissed off and confused. I don't know whether I should just curl up in a ball and sleep through the week or if I should just pretend everything is swell, and just hope that it will fix itself.
The entire situation is pretty much out of my hands, so I guess I'll just have to sit back and see what evolves.
Today, I received my daily fortune from Miranda July that reads, "You are insulting yourself in ways I find insulting. Insult a hat like that and I promise the hat will cry. Today you stop" and I can't help but take that as some kind of omen. I mean, Miranda July is clearly not a soothsayer, but I sort of trust her for some reason.
Tomorrow, I'm going to stand up straight and hold it together. I want her to be proud.
In times like these, I look to the cathartic qualities of my favorite bands to pull me through. The Smiths will be my band-aid this week. Now, if only I could find some Neosporin.