Life sucks. Life is wonderful.
I think I am just going to be bipolar for a few minutes. Only because you won’t give me funny looks from across the table.
I love him. I can’t stand him. I feel wretched. I feel beautiful. I am ugly. I am pretty. I am anorexic. I am healthy. I miss him. I never wish to see his gorgeous face again. I am uneducated. I am over educated. I feel lazy. I am productive. Ink is always faithful. The pages always betray me. I never speak. I talk too much. I am uncreative. I am a prodigee. I am not talented. I have an endless list of accomplishments. I feel tall. I feel puny. I hate my hair. I love it. I am always bored. I constantly find things to do. I feel like all the wrong males come into my life. There is everything wrong with me. There is nothing wrong at all. I am nervous. I am too comfortable. Did I mention that I love him?
whew. That felt pretty good.
welp. back to packing. or lackthereof.
