Thus I feel pretty shitty and I don't want to go to bed because that just feels like death when the throat is aching and there's nothing to do but lay there and hope for the unconscious. So instead, I'm sitting and listening to Counting Crows, which is perfect for my mood, but unperfect for what it represents my mood to be.
So things are kinda gross, but maybe my pathetic wallowing will make things better in the long run.
In other news, I've been off my meds for well over a week and it sucks ass. If I didn't fear being yelled at by evil-bitchy-doctor-lady, I would call her up to refill the prescription. But she'll yell at me for not finding a doctor in Orlando to "monitor my progress". First, I don't want to be monitored (and I'm more rebellious to the idea when off the meds) and second, it's fucking expensive and I'm more broke than I have EVER been in my life. So it ain't happening.
Watch Gail self-combust.
But the girl in the car in the parking lot
says: "Man, you should try to take a shot.
Can't you see my walls are crumbling?"
Then she looks up at the building,
says she's thinking of jumping.
She says she's tired of life;
she must be tired of something.
'Round Here - Counting Crows