DurAnorak (duranorak) wrote,

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"The privilege of the great is to see catastrophes from a terrace."

I feel like Noel Coward, wandering around my London house in a dressing gown at nearly one in the afternoon, but really my dears, I have nothing better to do, other than sit and puzzle over a text message I got a short while ago. It very probably meant nothing, as I very probably do to its sender. ~shrug~

I don't understand what's going on in any of the situations I seem to be in, and they are all without exception unendurably horrific. What is there to do but, well...mooch.
There really is no other word for it.

Just how many other poor women feel like I do today? Like running to everyone they know and grabbing them and screaming the truth at them until they're forced to listen and believe. "He said...." "He said...." "He said...."
But he really did say, and I really believed him.
How can I be so intelligent and yet so utterly stupid? Seven, what is it, eight times now? Falling for the same lines? Again and again? But why should they lie to me? What have I done to make myself so easy for them to tear apart?
Meh. Such speculation is pointless.

Later : Gosh, I just hit rock bottom for today...someone mentioned Nicholas Van Whatsisname elsewhere on LJ and I burst into tears. Probably not the first time anyone's shed tears at mention of his name but this is really absurd. Grr. ~hits self~ Grr. Stupid pathetic useless excuse for a human being, will you just get over it already?


'What's the army afraid is going to happen if gay people are in it?
"Private, shoot this man."
"I can't. He's adorable. Blue eyes and that uniform. It's too much." '

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