In pleasant news, I finally got some time last night to read over one of my stories. I haven't worked on it for about 2 months now (!!!) so the recent additions seemed completely foreign to me. I was even surprised by outcomes of situations and anxiously awaiting certain events. Cool. So now I have at least 3 or 4 novels or novellas that I feel ready to go ahead with and put on print. Finally. I really need not to be such a perfectionist.

Thanks to O. who voiced some concerns about my state of mind yesterday. It's good to know at least one person cares. I guess the rest just don't know what I'm feeling, but how could they? They're soaked up in their own little worlds anyways....
Now that I have a social life again, I feel strong enough to kick some sorry things to the curb and do better for myself.
I might be throwing the baby out with the bathwater every now and again, but at this point I'm not even worried about that. It's like I'm a different person somehow. I guess this is what "fed up and tired" feels like! Fed up with broken promises, dashed hopes, and weary concerns. If people want to mess their lives up, fine, let them do it--I'm not standing in anyone's way anymore. I get paid to be a babysitter on my job, and I look out for people I minister to in a special way because I want to...but people who are supposed to be my friends don't deserve or want my attention after a certain point. I've talked till I've been blue in my face and now I'm through.
(Yeah, I know, I keep saying I'm through, but how come I keep dwelling enough to bother to repeat it?)
I told you it takes me forever to say goodbye.