I'm a well read grad student who's bluntly honest about all things, although I try to be most honest about myself.
I was so fucking depressed today, I spent it all curled up on my bed, crying and napping. It was disgusting. Or so my brain is telling me.
I may nap again, or I may read some more Deadpool. I wanted to get to my favorite poet today, because I have half of her first collection to go through, and I wanted to finish Floating Boy by Jones.
But only Deadpool is cheering me up, which is making me feel even more messed up because it's Deadpool.