Miss Prissy Pants called. He sent me an email this morning asking if I was "still all fabulously bouncy and in love." I told him "no," and that he should read my LiveJournal if he wanted the details. He read it, and then he called me. He said he was sorry. He said he didn't want to rub it in, but that he'd never seen me as happy as I was when he saw me last week (and, as someone who's known me for nearly twenty years now, "never" actually is a mighty long time ...). He also said that he completely understood what I was talking about when I described that seizure-like thing that I went through on Thursday night.

So I'm still watching TV, and still waiting for n0thingman to wake up and feel better, and still crying on top of it all. Little things, little thoughts, seem to send me over the edge today. Like these roses we have at work. They're all open and no one should buy them now -- they'll be dead soon -- but every time I walk past them I have to smell them ... I remember working on Valentine's Day, and wondering if some regular customer would do something sweet like buy a bunch of flowers and give each of the workers one of them. For the record, no one did. And I stop and I smell those roses and I wonder: when was the last time someone gave me roses? The 1990s, I'm pretty sure of that (unless you count the chocolate rose that n0thingman stole from the frat boys once upon a time, although that may've actually been in 1999, so same difference).

This post doesn't even really mean much of anything. Just more of me being sad and lonely, I suppose. Actually, I told Miss Prissy Pants that, more than anything else, I felt exhausted right now. It's pretty true. He said depression can take a lot out of you, which is also pretty true. But I just feel mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. Just fucking beat.