Trouble.

My brain has been progressively shutting down all month. With finals over, I have to find a way to open myself up, open my eyes, and not run away. I long to be somewhere safe.

I’m also sick of eating. Do you know what a full day of eating every few hours will do to you? It’ll give you a belly. I’m kind of hungry now, but I don’t want to eat. Which is a bad thing. Not because I’m trying to gain weight, because not wanting to eat is a tell-tale sign that there’s something wrong. Even if I’m hungry, I’ll think, “…But I don’t want to.” As I say to people, I don’t think with my taste buds anymore.

I’m vegetating, shutting down. I recognize how the tiniest things have become a gigantic task for me. Even my sleep cycle is slipping, which I can not allow to happen. The highlight of yesterday was doing my laundry, which I didn’t manage to finish. This is not a matter of giving myself a break. Breaks only exist if you’re breaking from something. As usual, I feel scared, alone, and most importantly, unsure. I never know what the hell I’m supposed to be doing, only that I’m not doing it.

Maybe I will think with my taste buds. I keep a cache of toaster struddels in the freezer for the times when I don’t feel like eating. Strange, but effective. This is why you have to plan your meals. I eat because I like living. *nods*

I miss sex. For the same reasons I got into it in the first place, intimacy, feeling someone so close to me. It’s nice, no? Eightteen months of celibacy. I am a born-again virgin. It’s going to be a long time until I meet a girl worth fucking. It’ll be better. As long as there is open communication, everything will be just fine.

But as I say so often, finding an emotionally mature female is a difficult task.

I think I’ll make a smoothie or something in the afternoon. We have strawberries. My whey powder happens to be strawberry. May not be an actual meal, but it’ll give me an assload of calories and protein.

Colleen and Ashley have inadvertantly gotten me into sudoku. *nods* You can bet I didn’t want anything to do with it, at first. Then I realized my resistance and told myself to get over it. Then I thought, “You know, I’m going to beat this.”

*burps* It passes the time. Sudoku, not burping.

I feel a nerve pinch or something in my right forearm. A gentle shooting sensation around my elbow. I can’t quite shake it off.

I have no idea what I’m going to do today, which is a bad thing. Devils lost last night, so I guess I’m quietly rooting for the Sabres. No, has nothing to do with hoping they’ll beat the Hurricanes. I just like a no-name team that can roll four lines. Plus Chris Drury. The Oilers play like they can take on the world. Ducks-Oilers should be an interesting match-up.

I want a hug. Not one of those half-assed hugs you can set your watch to. I’ve noticed how there’s an unspoken set amount of time most hugs last for. I like hugging far beyond that time until it’s clear the hug is more than an empty gesture, and is really a sign of affection. Now that’s a TimmyHug.