It's a bit lonely in my quaint room; sure, the college textbooks and random drawings keep me company. The place is crawling with kittens. Nonetheless, sometimes I wish I had friends that lived nearby. Everyone lives 2 + hours away from me. It would be nice...
18 years old, yet still no luck in becoming a somebody. Feels like time is wasting. Thus, I'm going to stand up, scan some drawings in, then plop back down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Maybe the squigglies I find will give me inspiration. Maybe a few people will come online to talk to me. May- ... My dad just invited me to swim. This shall conclude this bipolar journal. I'M SO HA