Melancholy

I'm kind of beside myself at the moment. I was working on my novel (for class) and suddenly felt that I needed to put it aside for a while. My brain's a little fried right now, partly from a regretable weekend and partly from writer's block, so I'm putting off on writing my paper too. I can't think of anything to really do with myself, and that's what drove me back here.

I've read everything in my room twelve times, and watched all my DVDs. I can't seem to push myself to do anything besides writing, but I can't write. So I'm here, writing without a purpose. That's how it goes, I guess.

I'm having a bad night. One of those nights where you want to go to bed just so time will pass. But I'm not tired and I can't clear my head.

Feeling lonely, lately. And I've been going about fixing it in all the wrong ways. I really need to get my head on straight and figure out what the hell I'm doing.

Incidently, I don't seem to have a nephew any more. I know they don't typically disappear like that, but sometimes shit happens.

Too many things happening at once. This year is going by too fast. I want to be a freshman again. I want to not make all the mistakes I've made. I want . . . let's be honest. I want a lot of stuff I can't have that lots of people probably want.

I think I'm going to get back to work now. I needed that. Professionals don't have writer's block . . . get to work.

Just keep moving, jackass.