I have nothing to say.
My ability to form real sentences is out da windahhh, and I don't know why. I'm just not as good at it anymore, at least not on here.

I write novels in my diary though.

I find that I am frustrated with all the wrong people recently. My temper is short with some, and endless with others. I feel like everyone around me thinks I am crazy, and if they don't think I'm crazy they think I'm delicate- which is worse. Maybe it's paranoia, because that is a symptom you know.

I want to GO. And I'm going to. I'm good at helping myself. I don't like it when other people have to deal with me. I don't like a lot of things, but I let them happen anyway because I am typical and weird.

I wish that college was a more convenient place to want to behave antisocially for a few days, and read and write and eat chips in front of the TV and stuff.

On the brightest side, I have never felt happier or healthier in the company of another human being. I feel like it radiates from me, because it's so big and perfect and surprising.

I'm healing



-endpost.

*****************************

The dreams were different yesterday because they were less real
The toilet was not a toilet, it contained giant pennies- a fountain of sorts
I couldn't empty out in my dream so I woke up to do it
Relief

Second slumber, there were more dreams
They each contained at least one familiar face
The rest was full of discomfort
My focus was there, even in sleep
My back hurt the next morning