Wondering, just like my family, when the pretend will end and I’ll go back to being the one who I was, the one heading for success.  Haven’t mourned properly.  Haven’t adjusted.

Like my best friend says, I haven’t updated myself.

Wondering when the time will come when I will snap my fingers and fix myself, and while in the middle of laughter, cheese and coke, I will declare how I was only experimenting.  This is a mental state that I can go in and out of as I please.  Because all the lying around moping and randomly bursting into tears and the shaking is very, very entertaining.  I swear, I crack myself up.

Someone just asked me what my dream job would be.  I replied “travelling around the world photographing animals for some big magazine”.  I don’t know why I said that, but I rarely say something out of convention so I suppose that’s true.  I didn’t know it.   In the past days, the only thing that has really uplifted my spirit enough for me to notice was watching someone’s photographs of their vacation in the Fiji islands, and realizing the world is not just these four walls and the bed.  That I must not die until I get to see some of what is outside.  But that motivation only works if I have the smallest hope of it becoming true.  Otherwise, why bother.   Other people can go to Fiji when I’m gone.

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