Stuffing my face with blueberry toaster waffles, wrapped in a large, synthetic 'n soft brown blanket. Comforted? Maybe. Comfortably numb? No. Cesar Milan's'-dog-resigned? Yeah. I'm basically just a big little girl who got her pigtails pulled and sat on her bum and cried.
Brazilian dance-fighting tomorrow. Might look into sword fighting. Might start workin' out or running. I hope to muster up enough energy to do those things instead of lazing around. God's got my back, I know, but I'm sort of dead-weighting sometimes. Ugh. My head hurts. I'm so dehydrated, all my water came out of my pores and eyes and I need to get some fresh stuff. Or maybe I just need a hug. From the ocean. Nah. A person. And then a glass of water would be nice.
Nonsense-sentences, whee.
Holy vision, Batman...
A young girl stands in the middle of a field. The wind gently plays with her long locks of sunflower-coloured hair, and her bottom lip is full and pouting. Her eyes are brimming with fat, salty tears. Her cheeks are plump and flushed, as if she's embarrassed. Her slightly chubby arms hang at her sides, but are slightly outstretched as though she wants the empty space between them to be filled. Her teddy bear sits in front of her, gazing up at her with it's big, glassy eyes and perpetual smile. His name tag reads 'Sir Hamilton'. He's worn around the neck from when the girl snuggled him under her chin.
I sort of want to draw her, but for now I'll just think about her and Sir Hamilton as I try, perhaps unsuccessfully, to fall asleep. I'm exhausted on every level.
Goodnight.
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