I really really can't deal

I have fucked up numerous things today. Seriously, on a professional level, that I need to fix.

I will fix them. I am sickish and tired, which is fast becoming my normal state, if I am not alcohol-numbed or bedded-down somehow, despite my best attempts to nutrify and hydrate.

I have to stop, something, somehow.

Why I am blogging all this is a freaking mystery, to me anyway.

And there are people on my mind. Not ones you'd expect, mind you. Not ones I'd expect. I'm surprised at the ones that are, and the ones that aren't, if that makes sense (because realizing they aren't sort of puts them into one's mind, doesn't it?)

Perhaps it's time to go home. Yes, maybe it is.

It's cold in here. I'm achy sore. My bed needs to be made, at any rate.

Part of me wants the pile of clothes replaced by a human. Part of me does not. Part of that part of me feels like I should come with a warning-label tattoed (albeit temporarily) across my forehead. Black-box, for sure. Adverse events likely. Do not combine with alcohol or other drugs.

I wonder who's stumbled across this blog.