Is it weird that I was looking forward to cleaning up my house today? It probably is. But I was glad of the task. It's something that satisfies me, calms me. It's an accomplishment measurable by visible results. All other accomplishments stress me out. I like soft hair, and affectionate drunks. I like the fact that I'm starting training tomorrow. I like that we have no school for a week. I like having a house to myself. I like being only accountable to myself. I like holding hands and snuggling. There is a direct correlation between the desire for this and my state of inebriation.
I had more things to write, more words to say. I think they were given away, plastered to my lips and then stuck to others' skin by drunken kisses.
I just might post latter.
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