When I stand I swoon

and am inexplicably dizzy. Like being drunk without the alcohol. Yesterday I felt a rushing presence in my ears all day. I think I'm making this shit up because I have nothing better to do. Our kitchen is overflowing with garbage and cans and there's a pile of laundry as high as I am in the halkwat. I feel guilty for not doing cleaning up and yet I feel too much like shit to do it. I don't want The Cutie to be mad at me. In fact, he may be my biggest concern in regard to getting rejected by The President. I'm so scared that he may begin to believe I'm as worthless as I worry that I am. Afterall, the only me he knows is the crazy picture painted by blogging and then the barely employed cry-baby that I've been since having moved to New York. I want to be someone better. Someone he'll be proud of. I want to be the kickass wonder that I know I should.