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Whatever's eating me, it ain't seasonal.
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| Whatever's eating me, it ain't seasonal. |
| 03.03.04 (7:44 am) [edit] |
Well, apparently the magical curative powers of spring aren't as potent as I'd thought. Last night was horrible. This morning is a little better. What's next, though? That's the worst thing...I have no idea how things are going to be in the future. Can't I just stay happy, even for a week?
Maybe I need to start writing again. That might help me stop feeling so useless. Wait, that's silly. What makes me feel [i]more [/i]useless than trying to write?
Listening to: Abba Zabba by Captain Beefheart
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