I am tired and hungover. Generally kind of bleah.....

But bleah is good comparatively, I mean its not ugh... but its a start. Things seem to be coming together despite the best of my efforts. Maybe its the law of attraction paying of from months gone by, all those positive fucking vibes I sent into the universe with all the benevolent intention of them coming back to me. I am good. I am trying at life. I get dressed. I get out of the house. Occassionally I make it to school. I have a job that I quite like. People whom I genuinely like. Only one potentially major pimple on the way. Things seem to be progressing quite nicely, just tiny little irrelevant bits seem to be coming together.

I want to get another tattoo. I think I need to. Maybe its crazy hippie talk or maybe its quantum physics but I think those tiny little pulsating molecules of pain set something into motion. I believe that my tattoo helped me. No i dont look at it and remember, it doesnt serve as any reminder, Heck there probably arent any lessons learnt. But there is some value to its presence and its permanence, to saying this is here, this is real. On some cosmic level, in some flufie way it steadied my resolve and I think I need that again, some semblence of certainty.