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Well, it was another "oh shit, it's hormonal" event in my life. It's happened before where I thought the world was crashing ending, and I should die and stop polluting it with my presence. And, then I bleed and go "ahhhh, the fucking hormones". I even had this moment when I said to myself "I know I'm a bore, and I know there's nothing anyone can do about it, but these feelings are real. I am so fucking sad." and I cried. Now, thank all the gods, I'm a bit blasé. My main task today would be whether I take the dupe ring in for testing to see if I got duped by fake gold and diamonds. I sort of hesitate to do this because I know I'm going to keep the ring nonetheless. It feels somewhat magical that on the "I lost my ring" diatribe-writing day - I looked at reddit to see if any other fools had done something similar. Ah, they had and someone had suggested getting a replica. I must have looked at almost a thousand art deco three diamond vintage rings and then I found one that cost what my rent would cost. And fucking gasp - it was in someone else's cart. So, I did something unusual, I slept on it. I figured if it was still available the next day, I'd fookin pull le trigger. It was a size and a quarter smaller than the one I had had earlier, but I figured I'd pay the extra if it could save my prideful humiliation.
I'm wearing it right now.
I really have rarely taken it off, and when I've washed dishes (I cook every single meal in my new life) I'm just using the old right hand action. When it arrived before I expected it and without me having to sign for it, I dropped on to my knees and said a prayer to God that it would work. I opened it, and except for the smaller side diamonds and the ornate under-bridging - I think it works. I was prepared to not even have it go over my knuckle as the aforementioned smaller size, yet was shocked when it fit me like perfection.
Yesterday, I went to my grandparents' graves. I love cemeteries. I left my car running because I'm always afraid that the next start up will be it's last - put the Christmas decoration I had gotten from my SiL's insane junk on the surnamed headstone and apologized out loud. I put the ring on all the headstones and asked for forgiveness.
I wonder if I'll ever forgive myself.
Today, I listened to the astrology report I live for every Wednesday and it talked of planning and discipline and hard times a-coming. I'm at a loss. I'm not sure what I want. I suppose I might want to be a therapist, but what I really really want is an independent, deep, counterpart to cuddle with and build a friendship circle where we tell stories and make merry. I want long walks in gorgeous woods. I want excellent books. I want fantastic food. I want inner peace. I want to matter to someone. It's all external.
I'm grappling with the fact that perhaps I'm way fucking off the mark. I think of myself as highly interesting, yet I have no confidence that another wouldn't do a #2 and run like the dick-ens.
and I told you that I found a cat I wanted, yet my life is so unstable. I don't know if I'll have a job in three months. I don't know what my take home pay will be. I'm just mad and lonely.
yawn with me.
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