It's November. It will be December soon. I want it to be December.
I'm exhausted. I can't say I don't know why, but I wish there was something that could be actually done about it. But there isn't. The Teacher is still high maintenance. The house is still a wreck. I still have to study.
And I'm not writing.
And life sucks.
And someday I'm going to leave home and then it will all magically be better.
And if I believed that I would run away.
I hate being realistic.