Entry 8

Dear Future Me,

So…. Now that’s out of my system.  Let’s talk about our day.  Cause the nice therapist who is going to buy my food tomorrow really wants to know how my day is going.  But there’s only so much BULLSHIT that I can deal with when it comes, to, oh I don’t know, DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!!

Exploring the house was, I guess, a good distraction.  I even went through all the goddamn chests and wardrobes again just to do something.  And guess what, it took me far less than I would have liked!  I also visited the cats again for a little bit.  They swarmed me like they hadn’t had human attention in forever.  One scratched me on the arm, and I booked it out of there.  The last thing I need is to have cat scratches all over my arms and legs for the old fart to see and to question.
And no one texts me or messages me.  Makes me think that the bitch I live with started telling people rumors that I’m nutty like some sort of fucking fruitcake or something.  It wouldn’t surprise me that she would stoop so low.  It’s like she’s from the dark ages. Let me be with who I want to be!
So I don’t know what to do anymore.  I thought that breaking apart some wood again with the ax would be fun.  But, the thought of going outside in this heat just feels painful.  And, I don’t think we even have a fireplace in this place.  If there is, where’s the chimney?  And is there some fire pit outside?  I might be convinced to have a little bonfire and cook marshmallows like I did back in brownies, but I don’t see a ring of stones or anything.  Also, that forest behind me is scaring me.  I know it’s supposed to be part of this park or whatever, but it freaks the hell out of me even though I’ve been here for over two weeks now.
This place is weird at best.  Scratch that.  The place is weird without a doubt.  I kinda wish I had something to do.  I wish I knew what the hell happens here.  I wish I wasn’t alone at night.  I wish I had a smoke.
I could try to get myself a pack tomorrow after that therapist does his mumbo-jumbo.  But I don’t know who does and doesn’t care people.  Like, I know that gas station by the pool did that back home.  I don’t know who here is willing to help a poor girl out.
If things go the same as they did the other time this therapist shows up to berate me, then I’ll have a few hours to myself.  And if the old fart is nice enough, I might get some extra spending money on top of the bus fare.  I should ask him about that tonight at… well, whatever frozen dinner he’s cooking up.  I can cook, more than he can I assume.  Maybe I could get something and make myself some proper, hot food.

Maybe the sky will collapse in on itself tomorrow and I can be spared seeing the therapist.

Robin