Here I sit again, in the library at school, late at
night, drinking tea, staring out the window. My
mood isn't as bleak or as odd as it has been the
last few times I've written. I speak in sentences
now.
unbelievable
School is a weight on my shoulders. Do I care? I
know I should and the guilt eats at me that I
don't, but I don't. I don't.
My home is filled with the scent of incense and a mood
of discontent. I hate that. I wish
I could shine through the fog that holds us
down, but all my attempts at sunshine have failed.
The bad thing is that I don't feel like trying anymore.
I don't know what I intended to accomplish writing
tonight, but obviously not my homework. My
attempts at interest in school have failed also.
I sit at a computer like the mere presence of me here
in the library counts for something. Never mind the
fact that I haven't done a bit of research or a
bit of writing in the hour I've been here.
pointless
It cannot all be like this can it?
It can't be like this forever.
