The oiliness of the creepy text messages sent to me from the Psychotic Brit has still got me reeling - two days after the fact. I'm not sure which bothers me most -the assumptions involved (that me and my friends are American whores), the faint hint of racism disguised as exoticism or the fact that I never actually had sex with his friend who apparently told Psycho otherwise. I just don't know.
Mom came home from work with her breath so shallow I was afraid to leave her by herself for more than 4 minutes at a time. She's going for a chest x-ray tomorrow. It's a battle for me to keep it together, but I'm trying my damndest, harder than I've probably tried for anything else in my life. I still have to face the facts though, and that scares the hell out of me.
I did get a wink on match though, and also set up an interview for a job next week. Some things are turning around I suppose, so that's something to be grateful for. Always turn to the positives...
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