There's chores to be done. But I can't be arsed. I have a small want to go shopping. But I can't be arsed. I want to go to the beach. But I can't be arsed. I want to go eat something decent. But I can't be arsed. I want to excercise so I'll feel less fat - fyi, that never works. But I can't be arsed. See what I'm getting at?

I'm having another one of those days. It all seems to damned hard. I'm ridiculously hungry. I want to go shopping. There was a plan for Timmeh and I go go to Freo and have Chilli Mussels, but as usual that isn't happening. Timmeh and I really do very little together unless I get sad. I'm sick of it. I'm annoyed. I'm at the point where I can't be arsed.

I feel like a giant overweight whale, because I AM a fat giant over weight whale. I don't think I'm unhappy, just frustratingly ambivalent. Which totally fits into my theory that fat chicks are generally unhappy, or in my case, quickly getting there. I'll do it agin: All the bullshit that fat women spew about being happy in your own skin is a load of dinosaur crap, they only say it because they're too damned sad and lazy to bother getting less disgustingly fat. I'm fat. Annoyed at being fat. Sad that I've let myself look like this. But all I want to do is eat something. Eating stuff makes me feel better just for a little while. And then it all feels icky and gross, and the bad feeling sets in and I feel like I should go throw it all back up. Sometimes I even go as far as throwing it all back up. All in the knowledge that I'll only probably get about half of the damned partially digested stuff out of my stomach through my overly-strong phyloric sphincter.

I want to feel stuff. Like actually feel. Emotions and feelings just sweep by these days. I want to experience the happy bits and be actually happy for more than a second. I want to be angry, really angry. I want to be really sad and cry because I'm sad. I'm sick of crying because I don't know what else to do. I want to care. I don't want to go through the monotony that life can be.

Maybe I've lost my soul. I don't remember selling it. I don't remember giving it away either. Nope, didn't pack it away. It's like it just went "POOF" and I don't have it anymore. Is that where passion comes from?