So I've been counting wrong all this time. I should've started at 16, not 15, which puts me at 12 tomorrow, rather than 11. But one may be cut off the end from my previous figuring. Which would put me in exactly the right place. Happy thoughts.
I started working out again today, even though I'm still sore from that yoga thing on Thursday. Ow. I'm bored. Although somehow this doesn't stop me from wanting to shirk my responsibilities. Even when I hardly have anything to do, doing the things I have to do sucks.
It's worst when I'm at home alone. I'm bored and want to go home. It always passes, but while it grips me, it's got me. I don't want to do anything but go to sleep and hope it's over when I wake up. I'm trying to keep myself busy, but I can't shake this feeling of stagnating, the holding pattern, waiting for the real thing. I really need to stop doing that to myself. Waiting. I'm not going to wait anymore, I'm going to do something. Maybe take a ferry ride to start. In three weeks, I'll be writing a book. I better have some material.
Dream On
Daydream Believer
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