It's a new day. And there are always new problems.
But why dwell?
But why not dwell?
It's been almost two years since I actually cared about writing. But. But writing is all I want to do. Besides sailing, and painting, and pretending that I'm sick. Picture me. Sick in bed. Becuase that's how I have everyone else pictures me. I do think I am sick. But I have been 'sick' since I was born, whenever anything important happens.... Kristine is sick and she can't talk. So take a message.
Sick of being this 1st world problem. Sick of being my own problem.
Tired of chasing boys. Tired of losing sleep.
Nothing feels the same as it did. This is not growing up. This is growing old.
