You know being alone with a very active imagination is seemingly always detrimental. You see it's been rather tough up here in New England to find just normal people to hang out with. I can't quite decide if it's the people or the weather, or the heavy salt in the air (you know that somehow seeps into their brains and leeches every kindness that could ever possibly exist).
Of course it also hasn't really helped that I've been basically living out of a box for way longer than I ever thought I'd be, practically willing and ready to pick up at any moment and head back to where I came from.
Either way, this has led to some rather interesting evenings, in my box, alone. It's amazing what one's mind can cook up, from everything from I must be a drug addict (even though I've never taken a drug that wasn't prescribed to me), to maybe if I stayed here just alittle longer I really could meet, and fall in love with and marry a rich man. ;-) Do you see the delusions? It's quite unhealthy, I shouldn't really be left to myself, but I digress.
Last night in particular due to particular chain of events that perhaps I'll elaborate on at a later date when I'm more removed from this current box living, I have surely convinced myself, that as soon as I gain inner happiness and outer beauty that I will die a most vivid and painful death from none other than a lethal combination of paranoia and hypocondria.
Oh yes I'm sure of it, no blood test needed.