Rough Day

I suppose I should expect to feel this way, and believe me, I do, I honestly do. Sure, being exhausted doesn’t help, of course not, nor does having my phone on the brink of extinction. My god, how unorganized am I? So I will have to just hope the sun wakes me tomorrow. And that I don’t kill the phone.

A part of me wants to ball up and cry, but knowing that this would be entirely unproductive, I am instead doing this. With the door open. You never know. I should go out, I would go out, but for this heavy exhaustion. Last night, it was his concoction of ‘super snakebites’ that I should have known enough to say no to. But here I am, supreme hangover, and not even a cup of water to take the edge off. Nasty water as it is. That is something I doubt I will grow used to, the taste of the water here.

My window faces the Iffly road and its noisy. I am fighting the urge to ring up people from home, knowing that it will only make me more upset in the long run, I know all of this, I have done this so many times before. I am so tired. Tired of living out of a bag, tired of holding my cranky mask over my face to my mother, for some reason this is who I become, and tired of starting over and over again. I know, I chose this, and I am happy that I did, but all the character building in the world doesn’t make this sensation go away. The sense of being totally alone at this moment.

Who am I kidding, I should go find a phone.