I was a taller girl too, once. (regala_electra) wrote,
I was a taller girl too, once.
regala_electra

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and it's all your fault

I'm going to get into a cagematch with a consultant. Oh yes. There's the cagematch I've been begging for.

Stupid work. Can I be home STARING A WALL nao?

Perhaps this is post-traumatic stress. Hmm.



"You made a DEAD DEAN. Undo it, undo it!"

Okay 12 hours later and I'm not dealing well. At this point it's really pissing me off. I have been well-trained in the most hardcore of finales - Farscape, bitches.

I didn't sleep well last night. My alarm (cell phone) was smothered by a pillow and I missed both of my warning alarms. I woke up at 7:06am and I need to catch a 7:26am. It takes me over ten minutes to get to the station. I still don't know how the fuck I got to work on time. And now I am at work. Blankly staring at my computer screen. Attempting to think.

I don't want to process the finale yet. Because my internal thoughts? Have just passed "WHAT" and are on to, "he was fucking ripped to shreds. Barring a massively lame resolution, there is going be a huge fucking price to pay if Sam resurrects Dean. AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU GET DEAN BACK INTO A MANGLED CORPSE."

I lied.

I'm still stuck on WHAT.
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