leave me out with the waste, this is not what I do

listening: damien rice and lisa hannigan, 9 crimes.

I'm hot.

that's all I can think about right now. 

my window is open, my fan is going full blast, my duvet is in a heap on the floor, I've tried a cold water bottle and more glasses of water than I can count and taking a cool shower and wringing out a cold washcloth over my head. I've tried drinking milk, sitting in a different room, trying not to think about it, and nothing works. so now I'm sitting directly in front of the fan and that's still not helping. my skin is hot. 

and it's been the kind of evening I didn't want to have, where I am feeling sad and unmotivated and very 'I want to go home', and even trying to work out a feasible plan to do so in my head, and there's not one. I have responsibilities and things to do this weekend and a stubborn streak and the realisation that I don't really want to GO home, I want to VISIT home, and I tried to rant to someone who is just as sad as I am and obviously that did not have the desired effect of relieving this mood and relieving this HEAT. so I read a sad book and am about to go read another one, perhaps not a sad one this time. perhaps I will do this while imagining the Arctic.

wow, I never write like this in here. dear friends and family: I'm fine, and will probably be exhibiting signs of that in the morning. this assuming I HAVE NOT BOILED FROM THE INSIDE OUT. 

ykylm,

rae