desperate housewife

My Eee PC is broken and all I've got left to write from is my boyfriend's N900 (awesome gadget, by the way). And since he still has not installed cyrillic, and I still feel like writing (man, this thing's keyboard rules the world), this seems to be the right place to pour it out.

Suddenly it seems my life has hit a straight rail track that leads me I don't know where. It's like I've lost control over it somehow and just let myself be dragged by the stream. (mainstream?) I worry about stuff like what we're going to have for dinner and what color the walls of my new bedroom should be and what kind of shitter I should buy. I don't take pictures, I don't write and I don't ride planes anymore. I hardly do any of the things I love, telling myself that this is temporary, and that things will get better. And maybe they will. Maybe I'll finally have the cash and take the time - for a camera, for Italy, and for my abandoned online confessionals. In any case, there is something that I'm thankful for - that I am not alone in the whole mess. That after I do pick out the goddamn colors, there's someone, who will help me paint the walls.

Thanks, this does feel better.