Come on, little life giver.
It's a beautiful overcast day and I'll work a perfect 10-6 and then back to my sweet nest/bed/dinner table. I am working on falling in love with the new character I'm drawing for a book. If I can fall in love with her and obsess over her she'll save me from here. I have to fool myself to be very interested in and passionate about her, or it'll all be a waste.
There's a really pretty girl who works at a fast food restaurant named Shelah, and she's very nervous and polite. Through an extreme bout of kalopsia we imaged that she's probably perfect and kind and gentle and wants to know us and let us buy her flowers and wine with the money we don't have. We have similar feelings regarding the cashier at the sandwich place. But, these fantasies can never progress beyond fantasy, or we'd starve.
And my mother begs me to be who I was, before I stopped being who I am. I don't care what he says, she says, I want you to model again and be an artist and a free spirit who would take the advice you'd give to any woman you found in such a sorry state. And I say it's her, I am going to save all of us with my sweet creations. If I could just figure out how to love them.
Have the best end of week you could possible have.
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And I give you kisses for the pretty drawings you've made. Don't feel bad about them or anything about you. You're a sweet girl.