I haven't seen a client for over two weeks now. I have no desire to see any clients at all, in fact.

This morning I had a morbid fantasy that I had gotten pregnant by my last trick and had to hook to raise money for the abortion. In my head, I had decided which of my friends I would take with me to the clinic and just how tragic and horrifying it'd be to have to fuck a couple of men so that I could afford to get some cells sucked out of my uterus.

I think this means I need a break from it all, but my financial situation is still the same as when I began. My day job just barely covers my living expenses, and though one of my super kind readers (thanks again, Jesse!) sent me a budget template to use, if I stop seeing clients, it won't be very usable. I mean, you can't wring blood from a stone.

I can feel myself sinking into a depression, similar to the one I went through last spring after a terrible, heartrending breakup that filled my days with breath-stealing panic attacks and constant attempts to stifle sobs at work. Nothing that serious has spurned it this go 'round, but I slept almost the entire day away yesterday and find myself wanting to isolate again. In depressive episodes like these, I find myself craving a storybook-style True Love. Because, you know, in fairy tales, that kind of love fills all gaps and solves all problems. Princesses never have to deal with mundanities like oil changes and credit card bills, right? When I feel myself start to sink like this is when I usually renew my personal ad subscriptions and long for exes who are exes for good reason.

But, in times like these especially, I have do the hard work to remind myself that the only True Love I need is myself.