I’m tired. I don’t know what to think. Everything is screwed up. I’m pretty much happy, except that I like to know things and I don’t know this. What, you didn’t expect me to actually say what I was thinking, did you? People actually read this. Well, not many, but enough. Like my parents. So, yeah, not saying a word. Deal with it.
Go ahead. Pretend it really bugs you. I have a sadistic streak in me that will enjoy watching you pretend to suffer.
I guess I’m going to college next year. The idea feels weird. I don’t what to do about that. Originally I was going to do every year at a different college. Now I’m not sure. I have friends here. Good friends. I’m just starting to have a social life, and you want me to leave it next year? (More specifically, I want me to leave it next year. Or at least I thought I did.)
Okay, so I said I was happy. Now I’m not. Funny how I can talk myself into being upset.
Simple problem, you would think. Not even a problem, really. Just stay here. Uh-huh. You keep thinking. Maybe someday you’ll realize you don’t know everything. Who are you anyway? Who am I talking to? Oh, myself, that’s right. Goodbye, myself. You’re getting on my nerves.