Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

Dear Diary, I'm Sad Today

Dear Diary,

I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because H never called, so I didn’t get to go to the store. His wife is at work with the car now, so he’s no longer available. Fucking great. An hour out of his life in exchange for all the beer he could drink in that time. Whatever, humans, whatever.

Chewbacca has started meowing. It’s kind of a whine, kind of a moan, but it goes up at the end like a meow, and it is a new noise for him. He started making it at feeding time, when all the cats are meowing at me, he just started joining in. And yesterday, he was stalking one of the feral cats, he crouched down in the grass, did the kitty butt wiggle for a while, and then pounced. And he just now peed, inside the house for the first time, on a box that Bagira has peed on a couple of times. My dog no longer thinks he’s a dog. Oh, he’s also started going up to the cats and whacking them across the head like they do to each other as greetings, then he nuzzles their heads. It’s getting really weird around here.

I have to eat. I have something to make, I’m just not hungry. I was at around 2 this morning, but it was too early to take my meds. I promised Lilliane I would do it soon, and I don’t want her to feel like she has to keep checking up on me.

This is just Saturday. The day for the past four years that Doc and I have spent together. He doesn’t do errands on Saturday, he just stays with me and we talk. And even when we weren’t getting along, most Saturdays, we did. For the day. And I’m really lonely right now. That’s why I wanted H to come over today, so I would have a bit of company for a while. Now I don’t even feel like seeing anyone. I would lay down on Doc’s couch and enjoy his scent on his pillow, but I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Yes, I’m drinking coffee today. But it’s okay, because my belly is disappearing.

I’m waiting for it to rain. It hasn’t yet, and I’m sure the NASCAR fans in the stands are grateful for the cloud cover and cool breezes. The rain isn’t supposed to come until 4am, but it smells like ozone right now and the clouds are the right kind, so I’m thinking . . .

I’m also wanting to chain smoke. I have enough tobacco and tubes, no problem there, but my lungs are not happy with the urges. And I don’t want to smoke pot. Which is, for a Saturday, especially a cloudy one that I want to art on, that I wouldn’t want to smoke.

Maybe I should turn off the TV and turn on my music for a while. That might cheer me up. Some Bowie, some U2, some Big Country and Kate Bush. Yeah. And back outside for another smoke before I turn the lights on for evening because even though it isn’t yet 4pm, the dusk has permeated the living room, which, to my focused eyes, is made up of a picture window and three screens. Yes, I get a weird sort of tunnel vision. My brain just randomly blocks things out. Like the scene in Mr. Robot where Elliot is in Times Square and suddenly it is empty of people. My brain does that. Takes everything out of my focus except what it wants to focus on.


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