I spend time dwelling on the small issues of life. SEB informed me of a woman, 23, who she met at work. The woman is paralyzed so severely that she can't even speak, all she can do is blink. Thinking about something like that makes my mind stop, readjust itself. 23 isn't much older than me, not at all. I can't imagine being trapped in a living-dead state. Not being able to speak, or move, or scream, or anything. Hell is what it is. Her whole life may end like this. Sad. So sad. I don't think complaining about the little things in life will be my way anymore. My heartaches when I think about that poor woman. Sure, she's alive, they brought her back to life, but what kind of life is it really? I don't know. Well we got our fridge. Now we can eat normal food again, take out is becoming to familar and disgusting. I am swelling up. My summer so far has been shit. Nothing has happened. No fun. No anything. I'm not complaining, I'm just stating the facts. I hope K has a good life. I'm not worried or concerned about P. I'm done mentioning them both after this entry. There must be an end to everything, eventually. I want something. I'm not sure what it is. But I want it. I've decided to dedicate myself to my art and expression this summer. Creativity must thrive. Breathe. I keep it all so bottled up no wonder I'm nearly insane. Never waste a lovely idea. I don't know what else to ramble about. I hope, well if this site gets shut down, that we're notified. I have a lot of writings I would like to save. I should've worked this summer. My days wouldn't be so wasted and boring. I miss having a job to complain about. Complaining and I are like soul mates. Can't get enough. I had a dream last night. Frightening. I was in the backyard of our old home. An apartment we used to live in. I buried my favorite cat there in the back lot. After 11 years she passed away. It hurt horribly. Anyways, in my dream I'm walking around the empty lot (our backyard), when I notice that her grave is dug up. My heart panicked. The thought of something or someone disturbing her grave bothered me immensely. As I stepped closer I could hear a cat's meow. I didn't see anything. I heard it again. I called out 'babycat' the name I used to call her. The cat meowed again and came out from a bush. It was her, my old cat, she was decayed and rotten. I just stood there calling her my babycat. I woke up. I never fully know how to dissect my dreams. They never make any sense. I'm sure it's something in my subconcious trying to tell me something, some message. Maybe. I'm never sure. I have to clean the house today. I don't want to, but we must. The fridge is being delivered soon. Can't let them think we live like animals. I am going now. Done.