Mibba is gone.

Er, mine. That is. And I really didn't think that through fully, because now there's two really good stories that I can't finish reading. Still, no matter. It was eating at my head. And, really, I do that enough myself. I don't need that as well.

A few days ago I added another fragment to my Fictionpress which I am currently to lazy to provide a link for at the moment. (Sorry about that. I'm feeling lathargic, laggard, lazy and sick.) That day, whichever it was, I had finally summited myself to what I believe was my seventh head analysis (er, formally, and not including that bloody CT scan). And to some outcomes that I was not particularly fond.

I was also suffering from the confusion of a former teacher calling me compassionate (which, for me, a jarring and mind halting word) and then accusing me of doing various evils. And so, I had to address that. (By letter, I chose, for I'd had enough confrontation and analysis of my head for the day.) Alas, that was Thursday, I believe. I'm not entirely sure. The letter, I know was. And followed by a long weekend now coming to a close, which means that tomorrow I get to look forward to the response.

Life would be ever so much easier if I was simply a nice person.