Adventures in the Life of Beotch

I met somebody yesterday who like magic suddenly transformed Chicago from a dull, cruel, rape/vagrant infested hell-hole back into a city with pretty twinkling lights and a pretty sparkly lake and cabs and great restaurants and people to meet and things to do again.

And I am totally freaking out about every conceivable detail about it.

Why did God/my alcoholic father have to burden me with being such a fucking obsessive person?

I know there is nothing to worry about. But are you sure that little thing he said didn't mean this? Are you sure the fact that he chose this word instead of that word doesn't mean he's trying to subtly let me know without hurting my feelings or embarrassing me that he isn't interested in me? He emaied me four times on Friday but only once today. Does that indicate a waning lack of interest? Is there any way that when I think I'm being funny and charming that everyone else just thinks I'm being an obnoxious asshole? Do I really look cute in my trench coat?

Fucking I have a huge exam tomorrow. Good bye.

[Diagnosis: Neuroses]