(no subject)

 Sometimes i wonder if, after a nearly a decade, I'm still fighting myself.

How after nearly 10 years of popping medication every morning, and every night, there are times when looking at them makes me ill, and i want to throw them down the sink, or flush them.

But i don't.

And there are days, gods help me, where i wish i were...worse off. Is that insane or what?

I'm a 22 year old with full mental capacities, but there's that goddamn wall. A thin little wall that separates me from breaking out into the world. It's there...i can touch it. Independence, pride, confidence.

But i'm stuck. And i've been stuck. And i was unstuck for almost a year when i had my job.

Then i got stuck again.

And i'm rambling. I'm good, though. Not depressed or anything like that.


I may revisit this in a bit. Had another all nighter with the pups.

Going back to a previous post, Dillon's still..slowing down. I thought he'd hurt his leg about a week or two ago. Maybe he did. But he walks slowly. In a sense, it's amusing, because he can't sneak up the stairs without being caught.

But he doesn't like standing, much. He's sleeping more. Lost about 4 pounds, but that could contribute to the week he and Charlie were sick.

Haven't heard back from the Phx Zoo regarding the volunteering, which is weird. I want to see if they still need people for Rock the Zoo tonight.

Job hunt is still on. Cause lets face it, i'm not getting by on the examiner articles.

Right-o, then.

Onward, troops

Filled commentfic!

 Ngah. Totally not what what i was planning.

Stupid... comment_fic 

The prompt could not be denied

Torchwood/Supernatural, Ianto/Castiel, "What do you mean you've never had coffee?"

Filled prompt is here 


Also going to put the fic here, but for reasons unknown, i can't...copy paste a damned thing