Chirrup

 

Hey reader. 

I'm lying in bed as Drake watches The Hogfather. No, it's not a typo. It's very strange but kind of an alternative St. Nicholas. Very strange. 

Woke up at 230 in pain but I'm still alive. 

Yesterday I got irrationally angry at Bastian. What's new? Right,? Joking. No he said to stop talking to psychics. Because they're all fake. What if their fakeness isn't something that hurts me? 

Like for instance, the ones I spoke to weren't telling me soulmates and fuzzy wuzzy. They were saying "Here's the situation and here's how to heal." Saying yes- things feel magnificently bad, but again- it can't rain all the time. 

What is the harm in having hope things will be better? 

I'm destined for great things. Not because a psychic talked me into anything- which if you know me, they couldn't. I'm too skeptical for everything. Period. 

I'm destined for great things because I'm going to make those great things. I'm destined for happiness because my frown won't last forever. Self fulfilling prophesy.

Anyway. On to my regularly scheduled reading. 

S