Flat on the Floor

As anyone who reads this blog or is in my life knows, I was to Uppsala during the break. The nice part is that I got to meet everyone, and my life took a big happy swing upward. The not-so-nice thing is how I completely fell down and crashed first thing after getting back, and now I'm completely, utterly flat on the floor, emotionally. So tired, y'know?

Look, honestly, I don't need more friends. I don't want to puke op my intestines trying to be nice and social and polite and correct and find more ones. Come on, please? Give me a nice black hole in the forest. Or through my head.

And if I'm going to be an author and work a little by the side with some weird-ass technical shit, why do I have to write essays on Buddhism when all I really know I have to learn outside of lesson, and read idiotic modernistic ugly unorganized books with golden pages by some freak little partygirl with shiny shoes and blackboardscratching colormatching and a bottle of whiskey in her belly who thinks she knows how it feels?

And why does everything I write have to make sense? Goddammit. If you guys would just accept that things are as I say they are, hey, why not just read my mind right away and I could skip the work of writing it down? Okay. Now I'm being ironic and a little frustrated with how Semhazai absolutely refuses to cooperate with me in the next chapter though I love him so much,

but the rest is serious.