Monday, September 18, 2006 // 10:10 PM

I don't want to be Psychotic Bitch From Hell. I heard it on Mike's CD today, and it made me laugh. It also makes me realise how close I can come to being someone I despise.

I want to be healthy, good for you, that. That feels like a long time ago, even wanting that much. I haven't been comfortable in a long long time, at ease, laid back. Though I sat outside the clubhouse Sunday evening, with Marcus Terence and Kinyip, and that came close.

Nowhere feels like home, where are the friends I've held so dear. Studying, I feel like; Life is a distraction, right now. It occurs to me that you can't put relationships down and hope to pick them up again later.

Today David said why, and the conversation moved on, but it's been on my mind: I don't know what I am doing. So, so very well, the studying is one thing, but the hoping is another, and is the one that needs to be picked apart, before I make the biggest mistake of my life, not by virtue of What I Do, but by virtue of How I Go About It. Barelling into things, because I don't know what else to want, because I don't know what else to hope for. Because time insists to me that it is running out.

howeth canneth that beith? says:
does that mean ytou've done nothing since 940?
mongolia love; says:
err
mongolia love; says:
well
mongolia love; says:
ive mended my soul

My mind's wasted where literary analysis is called for, I have a very sharp Shut Down Point where it comes to Lit. I'm unhappy because it's Lit I'm screwing up, unless. Unless I wake up tomorrow with the most splendid clarity, which is still possible, and PC my way through 3 Contexts.

mongolia love; says:
sigh
mongolia love; says:
blake shits
howeth canneth that beith? says:
hurhur
howeth canneth that beith? says:
me too

Goodnight.