Being home in bed right now makes me feel the same dead end, going nowhere, boring life nostalgia that made me leave this place. I don’t know if it’s because I’m listening to depressing music or what, but I feel it and it’s scaring me.
My dad was talking about selling my car. I think he very well should. I mean it’s just sitting around depreciating when it could be sold and the money could be sitting around earning intrest.
The back of my throat is still a bed of infection, which must make a certain someone really happy since he gets to kiss me while I’m here. Should I be concerned that it’s been like this for a week and is not getting better? Am I going to die?