nearly-one-a.m. thoughts

during the day, i feel fat and happy and lazy and bookwormish, and at night, i toss and turn and worry. when i'm lying in bed, i berate myself constantly. i feel like punching a hole in the wall, sticking my head in the hole, and hiding out 'til kingdom come. or until the problems get tired of me and go away on their own. or at least until the shame wears off.

lately, it seems like time is being more and more compressed, with hours not meaning as much time as they used to, and minutes barely meaning anything. the time i see ahead of me seems to expand. maybe i'm finally starting to feel the affects of being a typical American adult. or maybe i'm getting a psychic flash on God's view of time.

i do love that the reason i stay up until midnight these days is a book, and not the internet.

he knew what he was doing. and that, versus ignorance, or forgetfulness, or even admitting it right away, is what disgust me the most, because any of the other options warrants honesty, to some degree, and just a tad bit of REMORSE. i'm just a little tiny bit bummed that i spent the first few hours of the wee hours twisting my sheets in a restless doze, sweating from the heat outside, when i could've been sweating because i was blues dancing my ass off.

my feet are toughest part of and about me.

-d