I have been using my journals to vent about things. I also use the journal to write ideas down that pop up at random moments. I have two more blank books for writing story scraps. Sometimes though in my main journal, I mentally wander off and daydream on the page. Yesterday I was feeling sick. I have been dealing with a chronic illness for the last year or so. On the page I started daydreaming and was thinking about how hilarious and messed up it was that consumption/tuberculosis was seen as a “sexy” illness way back in the day, especially between the Regency and Victorian era. I drew a nonspecific character in their sick bed, with dudes in suits around them professing their love and admiration. “Ooh damn girl, you’re gorgeous.” The sick person is like “Whut? Bro I haven’t had strength to even bathe myself. I am marinating in my filth.” They ignore them and are painting the dying sick person and writing in their book tearfully saying “So beautiful. The inevitable poetry of decay!” The painter says “I must paint this fleeting beauty” while sick person is wheezing “Send help…water…laudanum…”. So in other words nothing happened today cause I was too out of it, but I entertained myself with some silly drawings. :P