we are all alone.

we are what we see.

that’s what the book i am reading keeps telling me. i am in love with this book. it’s breaking my heart all over the place. it’s everything i wanted from “smart vs. pretty” and “stick figure: a diary of my former self” and so much more.

my head is wonky and my stomach is upset from the cough syrup with codeine i took a bit ago. i’ve spent a majority of the day sleeping and the time spent semi-awake wishing i was sleeping.

i’ve missed deadlines and that makes me feel more wretched. i can’t write anything that flows at all and they noticed at work. instead of crying, i went home and went to bed. i blame it all on the cold. how can one write when their head is floating away from their body? the writing is awkward, because i am awkward today.

tomorrow will have to be a better day.