Welcome to the sandwich shop.

When it comes to hookups, SANDWICH SHOP RULES. If it's unacceptable in the sandwich shop, it's unacceptable in sexytime situations.
EXAMPLES:
a. If someone starts frequenting your favourite sandwich shop you can be annoyed, as the shop will no longer have as much time to devote to your sandwiches, but you cannot be pissed, because you understand that the sandwich shop needs customers. If, however, that person tries to get the sandwich shop to close and become their personal caterer you are fully allowed to be angry.
b. You don't ask the shop to start making you a sandwich if you can't pay for it, you don't make boys think there will be sex if you don't put out. You can ask the shop for free water, but you have to be up front that it's all you want.
c. If the sandwich shop gives you a shitty sandwich you are allowed to inform all your friends to help them avoid it.
d. But no one wants to hear every detail of your last visit to the sandwich shop. We really don't care what you had for lunch.
e. Don't order a sandwich with jalapenos if you don't like it when your mouth burns. Don't have random sex if you can't handle it being meaningless.
f. You don't pee on the floor of the sandwich shop. You don't pee in boys' beds. If the sandwich shop employee invites you in when you're obviously too drunk to control your bladder it's his own damn fault, if a boy takes you to his bed when you're fucked up enough to pee it he's a rapist.
The sandwich shop rules are great, if you follow them everyone will be happier and we will finally achieve world peace.

And, yeah, I pay for sandwiches and not for sex.  But if I took my shirt off in the sandwich shop, you can be damn sure I'd be getting that for free too.

Stop doing the same damn thing.

Our library is open 24 hours, after about 12 the doors lock and need to be opened by our key cards.

The card reader at the door next to me decided to give the fuck up and accept no cards.  It does not work.  It has not worked for a few weeks.  About twice an hour, someone tries to use it.  It does not work.  They do not give up.  Most try to swipe in a few times, some more.  Then they knock.  Sometimes quite little taps, I guess in attempt to be library appropriate, sometimes solid, heavy knocks.  My music is loud and I don't hear them right away, they keep knocking.  Five minutes, more.

This library has other doors, many others.  But they'll keep knocking until they're let in.  They always use this door.  They will enter through it.

The door's not fucking working.  Try something else.

And this is the shitty metaphor I've decided to apply to my life.

My diagnosis is dysthymia, moderate depression lasting two years or more.  I'm on year 6.  It's not fucking working.

I don't do anything.  I don't do classwork, I don't go to class.  I don't get my mail.  I don't check my email.  I don't do my laundry.  I don't go to the grocery store, I don't eat.  I don't take my meds, and I definitely don't take any fucking vitamins.

It's not fucking working.

When I lose things they're lost.  I don't look for them.  Sometimes I don't want to walk home.  Then I don't sleep.

Today or yesterday, someone told me they were going to the library.  I came, did not work.  Sat here.  Looked at things.  Did not leave.

It's morning now.

It's not fucking working.

Shitty metaphors, shit's falling apart.

fuck