I guess it could have been the weather. And the lack of good company. Either way, I kinda couldn’t wait to come back. Back to my life of nothingness, of desperation, of waiting and wishing and hoping.

I need a project. Something to take my mind off of everything else, or something to help me deal with it in a productive way. Music, writing, exercise. That’s what I’m going to try and devote the rest of my summer to.

I’m tired of reading. It makes me sad. I don’t know how or why, but it does. It’s supposed to be an escape, a way to make me forget my own life. But instead it’s making me put myself in someone else’s shoes, and often times it blows. Apparently I’ve gotten too good at empathy.

I need to change some things up. Have more fun. Look out for number one.

Guess I’m ready to head back to school, then, cause that’s the only way I can manage these things. This place is poison for my morale.