6.08.2011

Books.

Hmm... OK.
I guess I'm happier. I guess I'm alright... ish.

But sitting here I suddenly feel like, I don't know, I want out. That everything is just too much.

I always find myself in these situations. Where everything is just piled on, higher and higher, to the point of almost tipping. But it doesn't. Somehow I DON'T totally and completely flip my shit and have to quit my job, drop out of school, take a huge handful of meds. Not lately anyway.

I imagine my life as a stack of books, each thing another book piled on top of the other. I try to not breath to heavily or everything is going to fall on my head.

I have this one class that I am taking at the local community college. [one book] Another class that I am taking online through my regular school. [two books] The internship hours that go along with that class. [three books] My part-time job. [four books]

Being crazy/ having a boyfriend/finding an apartment [five six seven books]
Some books you always have to haul around [like being crazy] but how well does a person do trying to run around carrying a stack of seven books?

Now and then I pause and think "I'm not really happy. Actually? I think I'd like to die."

It's pretty likely that is reverting to an old habit more than anything else.

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