(no subject)
I just finished Lady Chatterly's Lover, and I absolutely loved it. it's the first book I've read from cover to cover in months. I always start things, but so rarely finish them.
I graduate in six weeks, and I am so uncertain as to what my future holds. I need to leave this place, but I'm not quite sure how far I'm actually willing to go: missouri, new jersey, or maybe just orlando.
I've been kind of depressed lately, and terribly introspective, but to no end. nothing productive has come of it really. I've been avoiding my friends, not returning phone calls and what not. I've always been kind of flaky, kind of a loner. I suppose it's just my nature-- always much better at making friends than at keeping them. and why bother really? I've always felt so easily replaced, but then again, it's always so hard to tell where self pity ends and reality begins.
and now I'm off to cook myself some dinner. and as silly as it sounds, writing in this stupid thing that nobody even reads always makes me feel a little bit better.
I graduate in six weeks, and I am so uncertain as to what my future holds. I need to leave this place, but I'm not quite sure how far I'm actually willing to go: missouri, new jersey, or maybe just orlando.
I've been kind of depressed lately, and terribly introspective, but to no end. nothing productive has come of it really. I've been avoiding my friends, not returning phone calls and what not. I've always been kind of flaky, kind of a loner. I suppose it's just my nature-- always much better at making friends than at keeping them. and why bother really? I've always felt so easily replaced, but then again, it's always so hard to tell where self pity ends and reality begins.
and now I'm off to cook myself some dinner. and as silly as it sounds, writing in this stupid thing that nobody even reads always makes me feel a little bit better.