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Apr. 28th, 2009 02:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorcyressI know what I need right now, need more than just about anything else (much as I hate to "need" anything) and I equally know that circumstance makes it utterly impossible to achieve. I could get shadows, were I so inclined, but I don't especially think they'd help.
I honestly think I'd settle for anything, just one tiny fucking thing to go right today. Be able to flirt with that one girl without it hurting, not have the weather be terrible today, stop having mental spasms of unreasonably stalkerbased NRE, have my partner for my Italian project actually let me know ahead of time we have to push back our meeting, be able to get honestly into conversations, and not just roleplaying pretend...
...be able to donate blood. Or hell, I'd settle for not crying like an idiot because I couldn't. It happens like this every damn time I can't donate, which seems to be happening a shitload more often than it used to. I must've gotten more iron in high school --shocking, I know, considering how little meat I actually get around to eating. It doesn't *matter* how strong, how stable, how pragmatic and practical I feel going in. They tell me I can't donate, I sigh and wave goodbye and leave, and as soon as I can get myself tucked away where no one can find me, I take a moment to sob.
I hate failing, and I especially hate failing people. The double whammy of those hypothetical three persons my pint of blood could have saved paired with the slap across my face reminder that I'm not actually doing a good job of taking care of my body just breaks me down, every single fucking time. It's been more than a year since I've been able to give --whatever happened to me giving since mom can't? Third layer of failure, I *am* a spectacular daughter.
I'm gonna go crawl into a hole or something now. Talk to you lot later.
~Sor
MOOP!
I honestly think I'd settle for anything, just one tiny fucking thing to go right today. Be able to flirt with that one girl without it hurting, not have the weather be terrible today, stop having mental spasms of unreasonably stalkerbased NRE, have my partner for my Italian project actually let me know ahead of time we have to push back our meeting, be able to get honestly into conversations, and not just roleplaying pretend...
...be able to donate blood. Or hell, I'd settle for not crying like an idiot because I couldn't. It happens like this every damn time I can't donate, which seems to be happening a shitload more often than it used to. I must've gotten more iron in high school --shocking, I know, considering how little meat I actually get around to eating. It doesn't *matter* how strong, how stable, how pragmatic and practical I feel going in. They tell me I can't donate, I sigh and wave goodbye and leave, and as soon as I can get myself tucked away where no one can find me, I take a moment to sob.
I hate failing, and I especially hate failing people. The double whammy of those hypothetical three persons my pint of blood could have saved paired with the slap across my face reminder that I'm not actually doing a good job of taking care of my body just breaks me down, every single fucking time. It's been more than a year since I've been able to give --whatever happened to me giving since mom can't? Third layer of failure, I *am* a spectacular daughter.
I'm gonna go crawl into a hole or something now. Talk to you lot later.
~Sor
MOOP!