Dabble.

Thanks. Especially to Mama Dunford and Natalie, you beautiful women.
I don't feel less crappy than before, but putting pink in my hair, and acquiring braces for my boating shorts has been excellent distraction. Luckily I had a long phellytone call with my psychopathic friend Caitlin, and we cried, and laughed, and bitched, and cried, and laughed. It was nice. Damn, I love that little weirdo.
Without going into details of the last twentyfour hours, I just feel horrible about everything. I don't expect him to understand. I'll miss him.
But I'm giving up on humans.
Human emotions continue to confuse, and repulse me, so there's at least one thing that will never change. Also, my furry black pussies need homes this week. Doesn't the summer get better, and better?
Welcome to England: where it rains everyday, and the forecast doesn't matter. Huzzah!


Lieutenant George will walk again. Maybe.
There's just one last thing: dabble. Dabble, dabble, dabble. I really will miss that.

-Daphne.
NB: Tell me, do my posts ask more questions than they answer? I'm sorry about that. You get used to it.