Sipping Piña Coladas

Yeah I wish that were happening. Sitting on the beach having a happy day. Instead today I wrote myself an email. A long letter about how I felt. I didn’t send it where I wanted to. But I had to hit send.

My whole schedule thing is killing me right now. On top of the whole emotional wreck thing. And for those of you who care, I can’t talk about it. So I’m sorry for the vagueness of it all. But I did warn you that my depression would slip in. And I need to let it or it’s going to push AJ’s stomach into losing a 100 pounds and be nothing but skin and bones. Not that losing weight would be a bad thing all around, but because you can’t eat is probably not a good thing to do and definitely not 100 pounds either… so yeah exaggeration.

I want to be sitting on a beach. I want to be lying in the sun enjoying it. I’m not looking forward to the sand everywhere. On my skin, in my hair. Why the fuck do people want to have sex on the beach? In the water okay yes, but on the sand, it gets everywhere in places it should NEVER go. What the fuck people?

I think I need to go write myself another letter. Tell myself all the things I want to say but can’t. Sounds like my next morning ritual has been found. Anyway I’m going to go now before I bore you. AJ has a day full of writing ahead of her. Hopefully I don’t screw up the story too much.

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