Breakfast.

I just made myself breakfast and it was delicious and now I'm crying.  What did my friend say - she said "You have to feel the pain of this break-up and you can feel it in 6 years or you can feel it now but you have to feel it so just feel it."  I made myself a Greek yogurt with that blueberry stuff and ground flax seed first and then I made a feta omelet with side of avocado, a piece of buttered Ezekiel sesame brad toasted and a little side of black olive tapenade.  I put the avocado on the toast and when I bit into it my whole body started to absorb it - it tasted better than anything I have ever eaten.  I thought to myself "This is better than sausage and pancakes right?"  because that's what I would have made if the guy were here.  I caught a mouse in the trap - finally because I put peanut butter on it.  I mean who can resist peanut butter?  It was just it's head in the trap and it's little body just splayed out in the back of the trap - it looked so cute.  I said sorry.  Do you know the craziest part?  All the fucking peanut butter was gone - so it ate ALL of the fucking peanut butter and THEN the trap happened.  Gross.  I feel terrible.  I'm sad and a murderer.  Why would such a delicious breakfast make me cry?  I have no idea.  I just listened to a podcast that made me cry.  He's being so nice the guy - it's so sad.  I'm crying because it's fucking sad.  He came and found me last night and he was so high that I could not tell what he was looking at - I thought he was looking at my boobs and he said "No I'm looking at you!"  Okay - it's so sad - he's such a great guy and he's so high and it doesn't matter because I have to take care of myself and I don't want to.  Yes I do - I want to.  Look at me - I made breakfast, I killed a mouse, I threw out the mouse, I bleached where the dead mouse was (I guess all those murder shows I watch have helped with cleaning up after a mouse murder), I did the dishes, I watered my plants, I filed my receipts.....I have on a jog bra because eventually I am going into the park to jog and cry.  I finally figured out exactly how much money I need to make a month and how much I need to make from a second job in order to leave the comedy club.  Tears and snot all over my face - I'm doing so fucking great Bluebers - so fucking great.  I mean I guess I am though right?  God - I'm so glad I don't drink anymore - I couldn't navigate my way through anything.  Bye - I love you.