Image Credit: Pixabay Going to bed at 1 a.m. Monday morning and waking up at 4 a.m. Wednesday morning you’d think I was sufficiently set. Then why is it that all I can think about is passing back out? The first thing on my mind, when I finally became conscious, was this coronavirus and Wolfman. While I was asleep, I had a nightmare that my nephew who is in foster care contracted this horrible virus. Afraid…
So confident, but you'll be surprised it took awhile, but I can finally recognize. I'm so much better off with someone else. . .
There's a shortage of pretty much everything that you need or want in stores. Toilet paper, thermometers, milk, you name it, its out of stock. Now people are out of work, like my sister Lou and my nephew.
I can’t wait to make you mine and give you the life you deserve. It makes me sad you don’t know how amazing you are!! You made me feel again!! Over the internet baby!! No one has ever made me feel like you have. NO ONE!! I tease you and say it’s voodoo, but it’s really just unexplainable how much I feel for you. I don’t know how to explain my feelings about you. I know what I should say, but we just met. And we haven’t even met in person.
Now I endure this on top of everything else that's going through my brain to stress and worry about. Like I want to go to a doctors office or hospital where people are ill. Knowing my luck so far today, I’d catch the coronavirus. Hopefully, it doesn’t continue to swell, but if it does I guess I know where I’m going in the next few days
Even though Wolfman and myself are only friends, there's a burning fire deep within me that I can’t extinguish. When talking to my friend, he too genuinely enjoys something between us. With a mountain to climb first, we have no other choice than to move slowly, but there is no denying it.
I need to record something, because it’s my true feelings. Every time I write in this journal, I make sure that what comes down from my brain and up from my heart exits out my fingers. I’ve done this since day one of my Journal. At the same time I’m terrified to record what I’m about to write, because my new friend reads my journal. The last thing I want to do is frighten him or make him get out of my lane.