Well, my Christmas shopping is all done. No, you aren't getting anything. Or you. No, you don't get anything either.

Yeah, you are gonna get something. Nobody else is.

I've wrapped things up, unwrapped them, worried about whether they will be well received and wrapped them again. It's what happens at Christmas, you worry and stress out.

I'm worried and stressed out. I'm ill and tired and lonely, I miss my cupcake.

Colin, if you are reading this, please call. or visit. or something. Hell, just don't leave me here because I'm getting sicker and I can no longer hold a paintbrush. My hands don't work properly anymore, it's a wonder I can type.

I don't want to be alone with my thoughts anymore. All I can think of is hurt and fear.

Maybe maybe I'm just not good enough to be rescued or something, who knows, and yes I will have another bananananana daquiri thank you.

Keep them hurt away from me, please.