He does things for me.
Not enough things.
He's good to me.
Not good enough.And that was the conversation my brother and I had last night. It went on into further detail obviously but it's time for me to make some decisions if I'm going to get the things I want. Like a house. A husband. And 2 dogs named Dodger and Boni, short for Zamboni of course. And 2 kids named Jack Christy and Stella Christin, note how I want the dogs first. Like stability. And someone who really loves me. And wants to do things for me. And that will say thank you when I do things for him. Someone that will be proud to say, "Yup. That's my woman."
Then, this morning, my horoscope gave me a warning (that rhymed!): Realize that you may be putting certain restrictions on your life without really even knowing it, dear Taurus. It could be that you have said no to people in certain situations and now they are simply not asking you anymore. Pretty harsh, right? But it is so true. I'm so used to my routine that the second someone shows interest in me I immediately try and sabotage it. Why do I do this? Why don't I think I deserve SO MUCH BETTER. Is comfort in mediocrity worth risking something that has the potential to be amazing even though it might possibly be uncomfortable? Even though that discomfort may just be temporary?
Sigh. I let my prescription for the Prozac slip a couple days and I'm not sure if that accounts for this funk I'm in but I'm feeling like I'm having another mini breakdown. Little things are adding up. My moods are swinging. My thoughts are far too intense. Things that normally wouldn't amount to a hill of beans, are turning into an avalanche of beans. Mmm... beans. Beans, beans are good for your heart. The more you eat, the more you fart. The more you fart, the better you feel. Beans, beans with every meal.
Sorry, had to lighten that shit up real quick.