| I cannot sleep.
I hate the fact that I say I hate people - when really I just mean one person.
I think if I let everyone know that it's everyone, I won't ever have to confront that person.
It's a nice dream.
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| I like skipping out on uni and doing nothing at home.
Not only does it remind me how much I'm not writing.
I get to stare at my ceiling for hours
and visualise exactly where it all went wrong.
Self-pity?
Today we were best friends.
Tomorrow I'm going to go back out there
and be busy.
I am a violent over-achiever.
But I will not be denied my sloth days.
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| I forget about things like these.
Then come back to them eighteen months later.
And I realise that I really should keep some sort of journal.
They're apparently meant to be therapeutic.
It's funny how I can be epigrammatic about things that are so huge in my head.
I am three months shy of twenty and all I can think about is that...
I am exactly the same person emotionally that I was four years ago.
There is something fucked up about being a perpetual sixteen year old isn't there?
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