anyone but me.
I am acting like the most cliched single girl in the entirety of the world. I amuse myself. Home alone, glass of wine, playlist of sad songs, playing 'all by myself' on the piano (if only I knew any other songs). Silly Heather. I should be writing my essay. I expected to go back to the library between 5 and 8 and write another 200 words but I ended up Adventuring until after 7 and came in not really feeling the essay writing capacity. I'm not even sad. I just want to stop living.
There's hope though. I realised this as I was hanging out the window with my wine and fag. In each moment, there is hope. I can stare at the ground and think about falling in such a way that I wouldn't just put myself in more physical pain, but I don't. In each moment, I choose to be alive. I choose to keep going, to find a way to survive. Sometimes this makes me feel like a failure - so useless I can't even bring myself to die - but not now. I don't want to die. I'm scared of dying, what if it's just as bad as life? That would SUCK. I hope there's tea in heaven. Anyway. I'm not sad. I am done with living in limbo.
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