How the hell can it be Friday tomorrow?
Damn, my week has been intense busy.
Good. There's nothing worse than noticing the days and ticking them off, as if they weren't there.
Depression does this. It makes you feel as if every day is a curse. Another day that you have to live through. Like eating food that has no taste.
I realised that I was recovering, recently. I am so relieved to be enjoying everything that I do, again.
My enthusiasm levels are up...I'm ok with whatever s*** hits the fan. Used to it. To me, it's just external crap. I'm busy. Can't touch me. I'm writing, painting and living. It feels fine. My shoulders, upper back and eyes ache from typing all day, but that will be ok tomorrow. Productivity rocks my boat.
Two of my favourite words, Activity, productivity.
Chapters open, chapter close. Then it's time for a new book.
Some people you will miss forever and we must be grateful for the memories that they have left us with, because these will be forever. And if memories are all we are left with, then we must remember how we are so lucky to have had built and made them.
... and on a bedtime note. We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl.
What's hidden in my closet?
Clothes. How many?
Shoes...Whaaaat?
Bags....now, behave
Accessories...can you wear that much bling, without being arrested/molested or robbed?
...and the rest..is it necessary to have all that?
Have you looked at your bank statements lately?
Yes. And?
It's quite shocking, M'lady (or malady, which my shopping habit sometimes is)
I'm a disgrace to the human race.
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