I’m sitting at my work desk fighting back tears. This isn’t the first time, it won’t be the last.
Blake is going to be moving out soon. I don’t know how to feel. It’s an end of an era, truly. I’m just struggling, in general. My body hates me.
I’ve been having weird dreams lately. Saturday night I dreamt that I stole quarters from a housekeeper at a hotel. Last night I dreamt that my dog Belle was crawling into a shallow grave, and I had to keep telling her to get out.