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hypochondria. current song: talk show host by radiohead. i want to i want to be someone else or i'll explode floating upon the surface for the birds the birds you want me well fucking well come and find me i'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches and nothing nothing you want me well come on and break the door down you want me fucking come on and break the door down i'm ready i'm ready things have been busy here. and i have been a tired and stressed girl. i've been spreading myself a bit too thin again lately - not that any of my friends can say that they've seen me though. i tend to do throw myself into my work when i love it. and for some strange reason, the back of that goddamned ambulance is the only place that feels like home. the spot where the batshit old lady pinched the everloving crap out of my arm still hurts. so does my leg, my right leg...it's been killing me for weeks. i should probably go get it looked at, you know, when i have time. which is looking like the day after never. knowing my luck i've thrown a clot and soon it'll land in my brain and then i'll die. you know, the only bad part about this job is that it amplifies that stupid little hypochondriac in my head by about a billion decibels. and now, finally, at 0106, i've grown sleepy. last night i couldn't sleep and stayed up to about 0530. it made today a little more miserable than it should have been. nighty night, i hope. ~*~ immediate yesterday. ~*~ divination. ~*~ get your own guestbook here |
