I'm a frayed knot

In my bedroom there is a window. Around this window there is a window frame. Along this window frame I usually place drinks when I am in bed. Most of the time they are water. Most of the time the water is for when I wake up after a night of drinking. Apparently about a week ago I didn't place water there. I had a glass of orange juice. This glass of orange juice was forgotten. After about a week my glass of orange juice on my window frame in my room in thirty degree weather has produced an impressive culture of some uniquely repulsive mould.

Thats right ladies and gentlemen, Emily has mould growing meer feet away from when she lays her head to sleep at night. My state of mind is one where I will get on my hands and knees and scrub for hours unknown crud left for months by someone else in an appartment I do not yet live in but I cant be bothered to clean a single glass by the bed I sleep in everynight.

(There are, as I type, not one, not two, but FIVE fruit flies floating in my wine glass. A wine glass I had been looking forward to emptying, might I add. )

I don't know what it is but I feel like I'm falling appart. The lease amount of stress sets me off. All I want to do is cuddle into my bed in the smallest ball I can make and not move. I wish very much that I was still in karate because I fequently have the urge to hit things. I want a day off. A real day off where I dont have to go anywhere or do anything. How do people do this? how do people live a life where you have no time to yourself? Is this what being grown up and having responsibility is like? If so, what a crock.

staring longingly at a wasted glass of wine,
Emily, signing off.

?

Someone moved my wet clothes from the washing machine to the drying machine. But then didn't turn on the drying machine completly cancelling out whatever nice gesture they were trying to do... Now I'm simply confused.

Ive come to realise that my legs will never be things of beauty. They are usually covered and scabs and my knees are permanently discoloured due to years of scrapes and bruising. Scars from 12 years of soccer I guess. I also inherited my father's odd lumpy knees. The final touch comes with the fact that I refuse to shave on any kind of regular basis so I'm often stubly. The thing is, none of this really bothers me. I bear my battle scars proudly and my lumpy knees will always remind me of my father. I dont know why I felt the need to share any of that but...there you have it.

The appartment is gradually becoming kickass and less... how shall I put it? squalid. I never knew a fridge could be that digusting. BUT I am proud to say I was (and am) dedicated to have a FRESH start in a CLEAN appartment. Next up, painting my room. I am very excited for this.


Today I played soccer in the pouring rain, twas brilliant. I now hurt, but no worries.


No, worries indeed.