Smoked three cigarettes last night. And god how satisfying they were. And how strange I felt in front of Dhara's apartment smoking with Mark and feeling both peaceful and scared as hell as the three of us talked and shared and lived without leaving the house. That boy could break me with a smile and crush my heart without ever saying a word and it feels like losing control. Damn the Capricorns. I didn't want to leave, but responsibility came calling and I left around 11:30 in order to be at least semi-rested for work.
Then woke up in an utterly depressive mood, as if the demons in my neurotransmitters outsmarted the medication I feed myself every morning at breakfast, along with my Vitamin C and Centrum.
Thinking about going to get tested for any possible STDs. But the thought of the inside of my pee-hole being swabbed isn't exactly comforting. I can't even look in there. (So I have issues with my body.) Damn it, I wish there was an easier way. But just to know, I guess I have to do it. And the first time is surely the hardest, just because you don't know what to expect.
And I'm only considering this because Eric called yesterday to tell me he's got the clap. "You might want to get tested too," he said. "Why?" I asked. "We haven't slept together since, like, April of last year." "Still, sometimes it takes a really long time to develop any symptoms." He always likes to scare me. Like a parent. But he watches out for me and usually I need to be watched out for. So it's to the health department I go. Once I get the nerve.