I didn't drink last night, like I thought that I would. I did smoke a bit, just a bit... The point that should be noted was that I spent the night alone- really alone. No parents home, no older brothers. I. Was. Alone. I felt good about it. It reminded me of when I was house sitting and stuck out all by myself- except this time I probably could have called someone (proobablah) but I just didn't. I switched off my social skills and became a hermit, bundled up in my favorite corduroy blanket and watched girly movies all night.

I know that my reactions to anything have been completely unpredictable lately. My mood is like avoiding invisible trip wire (and/or impossible not to set off) and I can't tell you why or how not to make me crazy but just that it is what it is right now.

I'm too sensitive.

So on a much more fun note, while waiting for my boyfriend, I've decided to drink as much as I can until he decides to call me... Which probably won't be for a while... Or right now... Wow!

So the root of the problem is that I feel easily disappointed lately. This obviously goes back to the sensitivity thing. I have, to try to counter this, began to set standards in every respect possible, as low as possible. So if you say you're going to call I will typically think that you won't. If you say we'll do something at a certain time, I'll think that it won't happen until hours past when. I'm used to walking into my kitchen and finding nothing to eat- even when I left half a pizza in there just last night... Mother fuckers...

But I have to go now. I'm out of rum and there's a surplus of beer in the garage! Drunk writing rules. Maybe I'll come back with some short fiction for you...