12/20/2011

I am currently struggling with not killing my dog.  Moving has apparently traumatized her extensively, and at night she lays awake in her pen and whines.  I find this sound extremely irritating.  There is a rational part of my mind, and it acknowledges that she is frightened being alone in the new house.  The majority of my mind, though, is homicidal.  I am fucking tired, I’ve had this migraine for three days now, and I want to get some sleep.  Tonight I’m going to load up on the benedryl and melatonin and hope for a few hours.  This is likely futile.

Living in the woods is very dark.  And quiet.  I am claustrophobic, and find the dark oppressive.  As if it is actually closing in on me.  I guess it’s going to take some getting used to.

I fell on some ice while moving my bed.  I have a huge bruise on my shin that I keep whacking on things.  It’s unpleasant.

Part of me wants to hit it with a hammer, but I have thus far avoided this. 

Accepting that “this” is going to be my life now…is hard.  I just feel like I was coerced into this, even though I gave my “consent.”  I mean, no one forced me to put my things into boxes and move.  I could have said “no” at any time, but I didn’t. 

No.