Considering that we were not even together that long - a month, a month and a half? - it is funny how adapted I became to certain things, that it only took me a few weeks to get in the habit of doing something or expecting something, and now, I feel how my routine has been disrupted. Tonight, getting off the subway, walking up the stairs out of the station, I reached for my phone with thoughts of Matt.

I did the same thing the past couple nights and thought that it was funny, odd, but tonight, it happened yet again. In such a short amount of time, I developed this habit of talking to Matt as soon as I got off the subway coming home from work. Needless to say, I was sad at this moment. These moments, they are few, are when this situation strikes me as sad. Honestly, I don't really think about it except in these moments where something reminds me of time spent with Matt, but man, in those moments, like just a short while ago - I thought What the hell happened? How did that end so quickly?

Today, I went to the dermatologist and she looked at my back to see if I had any acne there, and while looking at my back, she asked in a concerned tone, "Have these moles gotten darker lately?" And well, basically, I may have skin cancer. I find out in 7-10 days. I am also going to go on the scary drug with eight million scary side effects and that you cannot even get at the pharmacy, that only the dermatologist can distribute, this after a few kids killed themselves while they were on Accutane. She is going to wait to start that to see if I need to be operated on for skin cancer beforehand. Doesn't my life sound great? Casually dumped, severe acne, possible skin cancer, will soon start taking a medication that will make my skin even dryer than it is now and occasionally causes severe depression. Let's see what else: I am still working at the Strand, making a shitty hourly wage. I am insanely broke this week and trying to put various puzzle pieces together to see how I can pay my rent (already late) and go home to Virginia for the weekend. I am going to be turning 23 in a couple months and that seems like the point where you should be doing something with your life. I doubt I will be. I have a scab on my ankle that has been there since the summer. It will not go away. I don't even remember how I got the scab. I don't know where our nail clipper is, I haven't for two weeks, and I refuse to buy another one. I chew my nails. I don't make good conversation. I have bad posture. Our apartment is infested with roaches. Roach motels seem like money I'd rather spend on other things. My bike still doesn't have a bike seat. I haven't danced since god knows when. I hate doing dishes and let them pile up. This probably contributes to the roach problem. I know this and I hate the roaches, but I still don't do the dishes often.

I am listening to Belle and Sebastin's If You're Feeling Sinsister, just in case you were wondering. Now what if I had put on Pizzicato 5 or Beyonce when I got home, what would this entry say instead? It's probably better this way.