I made twenty cents opening my mail tonight. What's the deal with random coins in donation solicitation letters? I feel compelled to open the letter to retrieve the coin, and then resentful I spent thirty seconds of my life shuffling through a pile of papers that don't matter to me for five cents. March of Dimes may be completely amazing, but my dimes go to Planned Parenthood. And SIECUS.
I'm still lonely, and kind of sad. Not quite as badly as before, at least. I feel like I have a puncture somewhere, so that every time I feel happy, the ebullience slowly leaks away, leaving me deflated. At night, the house seems so quiet, and I delay bedtime bc I don't want to crawl into my cold bed alone. I'm done pining for Mr. Bond, so I'm not wishing for any particular person to be in my bed, but I long for loving arms and gentle words. Specifically Mr. Bond's loving arms, but hey! I am DONE pining for him.
I am trying to move on. If I can't find someone to love me, I would at least like to find someone to send me dirty photos and text messages. And maybe take me out on a date. And write me letters. Best of all, I don't need one person to fill these roles. If love isn't in my future, then I would at least like filthy, sweaty sex.
That is all.
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