i’ve managed to get partway out of the fog. no tears, no loneliness, no joy, no sadness. only a rather comfortable apathy. i am looking forward to going to the poetry reading on thursday, though. i wonder what i’ll write in response.
i don’t know what to say. it’s tiring to live the same apathetic life with nothing that stands out. except that’s how i stay sane except for those moments when the real feelings about my life come through and i can’t deal with them. sort of like desperately unhappy underneath but fine on the top.
i’m working on my writing site. i hope that i can take my broken down script and make it work. make it able to run smoothly. it’s going to take time. just as it always does. i’m such a nerd, nothing better than fixing up your script on a nice day.
i think that i’ll read the poetry book i bought. it feels as if i haven’t read anything for ages. not true but i get that way sometimes. i wish i had a library card so i could check out more books but my fine is way too high for me to pay at the moment. somebody, someday.
i’m not sure what i’m going to do with my life. keep it the same. the same job, the same lack of friends, the same unhappiness. will i ever trade all that in for something new? maybe it’d get worst but at least i’d have done something. my mother found a blade in the bathroom and she knew. i was careless (on purpose?) but i don’t think it was intentional. sort of like how i leave everything everywhere. messy. one less blade to use but i still have half a dozen left, i think. i don’t know if i’ll use them. maybe.
