Tired
Here I am. god I wish I had a bottle. Yet, I don't seeing as my stomach feels as if someone with a dull butterknife is stabbing it. So life again has not improved. I can't understand why I can't be happy. Every negative blow seems worse and worse each time. Going up chicago was ok, a little boring (not your fault miranda), but it wasn't relief from unknown guilt, boredom, loneliness, repeativness and disatisfaction. Most people handle these things with a positive response. I brake down and cry. Now I must get ready for work, work that goes against my personal and political beliefs, but "its a job".