First things first. I went to sleep yesterday at around 6:30 pm, and if we ignore the frequent wakings up that has become routine, I woke at 7 am. And went back to sleep on the stupid mattress and then woke at 10:30am. At least this is a sign that the double dose is now kicking in, because my hands have begun to shake again and I didn't feel hungry so I have only just eaten lunch. Bread, mayo, cheese, banana. Oh, and three rich tea biscuits. And two green teas with bergamot. No chocolate as yet. But then again, I ate a 100gms in 1/2 an hour yesterday. So I think that the chocolate quota has been fulfilled for the month of December.
I also took a shower. I think that it has to do with fact that my dad called me a 'smelly nelly' as he kissed me goodbye this morning (thinking I was asleep). And the fact that I have to see my GP and my shrink tomorrow. While I was in the shower, the post people came and rang the bell and flapped the letter box and I realised that it was my books. Six weeks, you know. But I was too scared to open the door so I didn't bother rushing out of the shower. They left their card and it said that they left my box at No. 17, which was a relief because I didn't really want to go to the depot.
So I dress and go to No. 17 and Helen's mum (whose name is Janet) opened the door before I rang the bell and was very chatty. Told me to leave it because it was heavy. I said I would try to get it next door. Told me that Kai, Kate, Jamie, Dale and Colin all got sick with stomach flu and that explains why Jamie and Kate were home last week when I was listening to loud music and laughing like a crazy to stand up comedians. Then she asks me 'So you've decided to stay here then? Is your dad nice/ Do you like your dad?' (one of the two, I can't remember which) and I was surprised that we even registered on their consciousnesses long enough for her to say that. Perhaps when I have been hoping the neighbours can't hear our fights (or rows, as I told her), I fear the opposite is true. Dammit. She's very nice, is Janet. I liked her.
So much for having Fi; it is now Fe and it sucks. The whole world and his brother will suffer from my sudden lack of inhibitions and desires to just 'let it rip'. My writing sucks today because I feel like a shit and am very self conscious ever since reading Owais-is's blog. He reminds me of Umair, but I don't know why. He also comes across as a suave something or other. I always liked him; instinct, I suppose. Whereas I do not like Umar. He did some despicable things and should fucking get married.
I have told myself not to listen to any music today because it is the shahadat of Imam Mohamamd Taqi (AS) and we should have gone to the mosque last night but because I no longer pray or am bothered with my faith, I did not know about it. May Allah forgive me. Maybe I will start praying once my period is over. I have to; Muharram is coming. I can't do this thing; not when I love Imam Hussein (AS) and Hadhrat Abbas (AS). I can't. Kamal better pray Ziyarat-e-Ashura for me, man. I'm going to tell him to.
There were other things I wanted to write but can't really remember. So they can't be important.
Except that Maral wrote me a sweet email because Kamal told her I am depressed and suicidal. And Sabrina wrote me a lovely wall post. So I guess Facebook is not all that bad. But I am not going to add Umair to my list again. Because I obsess about him and he is who he is and not what I wish him to be. Now if I continue to face up to my paradoxical feelings and emotions, I may get over him soon.
See, Sarah is smart. She knows these things and I do not.
I also took a shower. I think that it has to do with fact that my dad called me a 'smelly nelly' as he kissed me goodbye this morning (thinking I was asleep). And the fact that I have to see my GP and my shrink tomorrow. While I was in the shower, the post people came and rang the bell and flapped the letter box and I realised that it was my books. Six weeks, you know. But I was too scared to open the door so I didn't bother rushing out of the shower. They left their card and it said that they left my box at No. 17, which was a relief because I didn't really want to go to the depot.
So I dress and go to No. 17 and Helen's mum (whose name is Janet) opened the door before I rang the bell and was very chatty. Told me to leave it because it was heavy. I said I would try to get it next door. Told me that Kai, Kate, Jamie, Dale and Colin all got sick with stomach flu and that explains why Jamie and Kate were home last week when I was listening to loud music and laughing like a crazy to stand up comedians. Then she asks me 'So you've decided to stay here then? Is your dad nice/ Do you like your dad?' (one of the two, I can't remember which) and I was surprised that we even registered on their consciousnesses long enough for her to say that. Perhaps when I have been hoping the neighbours can't hear our fights (or rows, as I told her), I fear the opposite is true. Dammit. She's very nice, is Janet. I liked her.
So much for having Fi; it is now Fe and it sucks. The whole world and his brother will suffer from my sudden lack of inhibitions and desires to just 'let it rip'. My writing sucks today because I feel like a shit and am very self conscious ever since reading Owais-is's blog. He reminds me of Umair, but I don't know why. He also comes across as a suave something or other. I always liked him; instinct, I suppose. Whereas I do not like Umar. He did some despicable things and should fucking get married.
I have told myself not to listen to any music today because it is the shahadat of Imam Mohamamd Taqi (AS) and we should have gone to the mosque last night but because I no longer pray or am bothered with my faith, I did not know about it. May Allah forgive me. Maybe I will start praying once my period is over. I have to; Muharram is coming. I can't do this thing; not when I love Imam Hussein (AS) and Hadhrat Abbas (AS). I can't. Kamal better pray Ziyarat-e-Ashura for me, man. I'm going to tell him to.
There were other things I wanted to write but can't really remember. So they can't be important.
Except that Maral wrote me a sweet email because Kamal told her I am depressed and suicidal. And Sabrina wrote me a lovely wall post. So I guess Facebook is not all that bad. But I am not going to add Umair to my list again. Because I obsess about him and he is who he is and not what I wish him to be. Now if I continue to face up to my paradoxical feelings and emotions, I may get over him soon.
See, Sarah is smart. She knows these things and I do not.