I feel like a train has hit me. I’m not hung-over, perhaps a little cranky but that still doesn’t explain how I’m feeling. I feel like a tool and I want to go home. I want to be with my family who loves me and leave these people who refuse to. I hate teenagers; you open your heart to them and laugh at it before tossing back. I can’t deal with this business of not being feeling loved. In Miami, people are so warm. They kiss you hello, they hug you and mean it. Here all the people around me only love me when it’s convenient to them. I want to be held and I want my phone to ring of its own accord. I want to eat delicious food and sleep in my bed. I’m tired of this bullshit.

Goals:

Study for Math Test.

Look at property.

Try not to kill myself.

Pack for home.


Mood: Volatile.