I'm on edge. Clearly. This is my third post in less than an hour. Help me. I'm drinking coffee at 7:30pm and did it knowing that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep.

How do you mend a broken heaaaaaaaart? How can a loser, ever win?

Kitana wrote it on her blog, and I'm feeling it myself: Why doesn't anyone love me? I need a hug, a reassuring whisper, and someone to hold me. Oh, and sex. I need sex.

I was going to go out tomorrow night with Di to Cobb's to see Jake Johannsen, but the check I was expecting has not yet reached my mailbox. Which is not to say that the folks upstairs couldn't be holding onto it, because I wouldn't be surprised to find out that it's just sitting on their table by the door. So, no check, no play. Sad. I've told them how important it is for me to get my mail as soon as it comes but they don't seem to understand. Telling them again will only upset me further.

Maybe I'll get back to the short story I started, depression is the perfect time to write about others' lives. People whose only problems are ghosts and the media. Oops, did I give away what I'm writing?