I don’t really have anything to say. I am having one of those days. Not a bad day, per se. Just one where I kind of keep to myself. You know, the kind of day where you simultaneously want to sit alone in the dark of your room and scream from the rooftops that you’re grumpy? I’m just mopey today.

I could go into the reasons, but they’re awfully stupid in the grand scheme of things. And I know that. It’s just some stuff that has been bothering me for a while, and it’s been building, some of it for years. And it will continue to build until I break down, which I think will involve drinking a bottle of red wine and crying to Adele. Maybe doing hipthrusts in the moonlight. Standard stuff.

And it’s weird, because I’m not unhappy. I literally can’t complain about anything tangible. I just have this strange, nebulous ICK floating around in my head, telling me things I frankly don’t want to hear about myself.


All I know is, last week was my 23rd birthday, and I ain’t gettin’ any younger. I know most of you will think that’s ridiculous, and I recognize that it is on some levels, and yet I can’t force myself to be happy about not reaching goals since I’m “only” 23.

Maybe I’ll bounce back, like I usually do, my tether a little thinner. The snap is inevitable, my friends. We just have to wait.

In the meantime, I think I’ll mope.

Can’t Fight the Moonlight,

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