Oh, I am so miserable. One more hour left, but I have finished every last thing that I needed to finish, so I am just sitting around ticking on the keyboard, checking my phone obsessively, feeling jittery from a soy latte and ten cookies (I’m having a bad week, okay?!), and hoping the minutes move a just a bit faster. I’m going to miss it here, but this is just kind of a waste of time.
I am so emotional lately, just a huge fucking mess. My co-workers gave me a card, vegan cookies, and a big bouquet of daisies today and I almost started crying. Not good. Not emotionally stable. Get a grip on yourself, Carrie. I’m worried about what is going to happen to me when I make my rounds and say goodbye to my favorite editors. Very concerned.
And I guess I won’t be seeing Radiohead after all. I don’t even care about him anymore, I just want to see Thom Yorke. And now I’m starting to worry that he’s in the hospital and all these crazy things because I haven’t heard from him in 3 days after talking to him non-stop for 3 weeks. It seems a bit odd, doesn’t it? I really don’t give a shit if he’s not into this whole thing anymore, now I just want to know that he’s okay. He’s very skinny, maybe he got anemia or became crazy sick and passed out and is in a coma and I would never ever know at all. He was getting a cold when we last spoke, maybe it was the plague or avian bird flu or SARS or some sort of weird vegan disease that strikes soy products and inhibits you from picking up your phone or answering one simple fucking text message. This is what happens when people matter to me, all I do is worry. And this is why I should stop getting close to people altogether.
So this took up a good chunk of time, which is promising. Just 45 more minutes. Oh please, 45 minutes, take pity on me and sprint to the finish line.
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