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Last year (and the year before, actually), something interesting seemed to happen almost every day, something to babble about, and if nothing happened, then I would lament how boring the day was and have something to babble about the next day. Now I have nothing to talk about. What point is there in babbling about people you don't know anything about, especially when nothing particularly interesting happens? It's always the same stuff over and over. So instead, I b***h incessantly about wanting to come home, which is more annoying than repeating the same stories over and over again, imo. So yea, reason numero uno why I don't keep this up as much as I used to.
Also, who wants to read whiney crap? Admittedly, that's what this is, but admittedly, I don't give a crap right now. I can condense all of the fall's journals into 1 sentence. Ready for it? I WANT TO BE HOME. There. You now have absolutely no reason to waste precious time reading this from August 7 to December 16 because I've just told you everything I'm going to say. It's going to be worse in the fall because I don't have a break 'til Thanksgiving. Nothing.
I'm taking bets: burnout or mental breakdown? I can't rely on Thomas to keep me together. That's not fair to him, and he doesn't even understand why I fall apart. I wish I could go back to a time when I could just say everything that was bothering me and talk it out with someone. But there's some things I can only talk to a few people about, and some things I can't talk to those few about, and many things I can't talk about with anyone at all. I've turned into such a liar just to hide everything from everyone.
What the hell is up in this head of mine?
And now I'm going to forget I said any of this. I'm not talking about it. I'm not thinking about it. In my mind, it never happened.
 nepie · Sat May 16, 2009 @ 07:22am · 0 Comments |
