i didn't vacuum tonight. i'll have to get it done tomorrow while doc sleeps. and the litter box. i did no chores tonight, just read. i did manage to feed the cats, which reminds me i need to feed feral cat.
i have incense burning to relax me. the constant smell is likely driving M crazy. i keep changing flavors.
the xanax has brought me back to earth. there's nothing really going on here on earth.
if it weren't for the cats, i'd finish the xanax. i'd be dead before doc got home. then he could be free. but who would feed the cats and take care of them medically? doc doesn't have the time. he works and sleeps. when would he have time to get rid of all my shit? and would he donate it or just throw it away to get rid of it? do i really care at this point? i see no future for us, for me. except the same old medicated existance that keeps me from writing poetry. what else is there for me? just getting worse. "no problem, you're welcome."