Someone asked, "How are you?"

I think I'm technically terrible, but I don't know why I feel so damn fine about everything. Seriously, to cheer myself up a few minutes ago, I went out and leaned over the third-floor balcony before I came to the conclusion that the impact of that would be worse than what I was dealing with. I think I'll be able to write my story about suicide better now.

Last night, Ash assured me from the hospital that we could have meaningless sex again once he regains use of his legs. (The surgery to remove a minor blood clot became more invasive after they noticed its size. Also, he may have a blood clot in his heart, so he's in the hospital until that breaks down.)

But we're not boyfriends, and we're not in love. And, if we tried to date, it would be a disaster. So he called me a "fuck buddy," which made me realize that the primary romantic relationship I currently have is one that I compromised to get and never wanted. But we're friends and able to talk.

The guy I kissed last week, the one I said would never call me, called me that night and then never called me again. Classic.

My supervisor yelled at me over minutae from work that probably matters to somebody, but I, like, so don't care, as usual. So I went to my old boss to vent about it. And he told me to finish up with my requisite tantrum and then get back to work. I completely understood that meant neither he nor I expected me to actually ever do anything to leave here and make my life into what I want it to be. (And what is that, exactly?)

So that's when I went out, leaned against the railing on the balcony and considered. Two people, including my other boss's wife, saw me do this and looked puzzled. But I turned to them and said hi. Then, feeling better and understanding the situation, I walked back to my cubicle, smiling.

Yesterday, I missed my therapy appointment. I have more Christmas shopping to do.