Mush

I have this notebook. It's purple and just a plain old 1 subject notebook with the metal spirals on it, and I write everything I can think of in it. I write a lot of poems for fun that I'll never show anybody but myself, and it's all in that notebook, along with little passages to books I've written for fun, and quotes, and song lyrics. Sometimes I even print out little posts from other peoples blogs that I think are incredible and tape them onto the pages, and they don't even know it. Someone's gonna find it, they will, and that's okay with me. In fact, I want somebody to find it, to read it all, and most important, to understand every little secret I'm keeping. I've been writing and drawing in that notebook all day. Today is just one of those days where it's been pouring since last night off and on and all there is to do is sit around in your pajamas and spend the whole day writing and drinking cup after cup of tea, and then at night watch a movie with salted Jiffy Pop on the couch. So that's what I've been doing, and loving every moment, pushing that nagging voice saying stop being lazy and get up and do something useful to the side for awhile to just enjoy myself. It's that kind of day where it's okay to eat a spoonfull of sugary frosting all to yourself, or look at pictures on weheartit.com all day till your brain turns to mush. So be it.

I love mental health days. And frosting's good, too.