Just another blah day

My hair is tangled and I look like I have an afro. It was in a ponytail all day and when I let it loose, the rubber band snapped and the tight ball of black strands suddenly expanded into a large poof. I don't want to look in the mirror, although I already see my reflection on the window out of the corner of my eye. Gross.

I feel ...blah. No other word better describes my current state than that overused sound. Blah, blah blah blah blah.. Blah! When you're too lazy to say anything else, or too scared to confront reality, blah comes in as an appropriate subsitute. They say pictures are worth a thousand words, but a thousand blahs are worth a million emotions that can't be described with any picture. It's a sound that replaces the chaotic jumble in your mind with a reasonably harmless-sounding concoction of vowels and consonants.

I'm wearing pink pajamas that have white hearts and the word "love" written all over them. I bought them because I thought they would make me happier, but they only remind me of what I'm missing. Not that I don't have someone I love. He's just not here next to me.

I have a large brown dot on my left index finger. That is sometimes the only way I remember which is my right or left hand. 

I am tired but don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to have a strange dream again that wakes me up in the middle of the night. In my behavioral psychology class in college, I once read about a women who only needed 2 hours of sleep to function like a normal person. I wish I had her genes. Instead, I sleep like a rock and feel like one when I wake up with only 10 minutes to get ready in the morning.