Stomach gurgles

I’m nauseous a lot. When I’m anxious or hungry. When I’m scared or exhausted. When I doubt. My physical state and emotional state are one with each other. 

I’m not content with myself. That makes me nauseous too. I feel like I could be so much more. Do so much more. But I always seem to be very pre-occupied with worrying about the present. One second to the next. And the longer you spend worrying about every minute of every day the harder it is to see past that minute. 

Will I say the wrong thing. Was my reaction appropriate to what just happened. Am I being too quiet. Am I saying too much. Am I being selfish. Am I funny enough. What if I miss the bus. What if I get off at the wrong stop. Does no one like the song I picked. Am I revealing too much about myself. 

And repeat. It’s emotionally draining. 

How was your day? 

I’m so ridiculously sick of this election that I can’t even express it properly. 

Sick of the hypocrisy and bias and shaming and hate and hate and hate. 

So sick of the hate. 

Hate for strangers that we couldn’t possibly know personally or understand. 

Hate for people groups we have never met because of some made up statistic on social media. 

Hate for people who don’t agree with us. 

That makes me nauseous too. 

Do you think that Shakespeare authored all his works? 

I’d like to think so. Something in me wants to root for the coy-looking earinged man in the picture. A fierce storm of words raging inside, a slightly less fierce fight with baldness raging outside. 

He’s probably rolling around in his grave like “Guys come on, let me create a new word, I’ll prove I’m a wordsmith. Uhh…. Bindlestiff, yes that’s the one. Already a word, eh? Seriously? Why?”

I was sick recently. Three days ago to be exact. It started out as a case of allergies and ended with me throwing up my McMuffin. Fantastic image I know. My boyfriend held my hair. Because he’s great. 

He left to go get me gatorade and sprite and came back with gatorade, sprite, and an air purifier to help out my sensitive nose. He took my temperature. He made me drink liquids. He made me soup when I was ready to eat. He took the next day off to take care of me. 

I dunno. He’s just great. He also at random times shows up at my apartment with a pizza in his hand. And then we eat the whole thing. On the 15th of November we will have been dating for a year and I think that’s pretty freaking awesome. So yeah. Heart emojis all around.

I dunno what this post was. A conglomeration of thoughts. A conglom, if you will. 

Well it’s about my bedtime. It’s sad. It’s so sad. I used to be such a night owl. An owl of the night. Hooting at passers-by. 

Sweet and savory dreams all. 


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