So, it’s the 16th, and I hate everything. I never want to look at my story again. It’s awful and melodramatic and so much work and I don’t want to write, I want to laze around and read manga. When are we going to the library? Why do I have to write? I’m four days ahead of schedule, can’t I just skip today? I know the scene I’m writing is supposed to be an important and emotional one but it just reads like a bad fanfiction. Ugh. There is so much gasping and sighing and quiet fury that I want to print it out and burn it while cackling evilly and rubbing my hands together. I’ve already written more of this story than I’ve ever written in a story before, do I have to finish it now? All exciting scenes from here-on out, but I’m not excited about any of them. I don’t want to blog, either. I want to punch someone and go to sleep or possibly read a book. Also cookies. I want cookies. And someone to talk to.
I don’t want to expend the effort to find those things, though. I just want to sit here and read manga and text my friend and mysteriously acquire cookies and maybe take a nap even though I woke up late already. I think I might be a little sick, actually. I think I need caffeine. Yeah, caffeine will probably work. I wonder where the nearest Starbucks is. Could I walk there? Ugh, so much effort though. Depends. How far is it? I’ll google it. Ugh. It’s all the way over there. The exercise will probably be good for me. I’m procrastinating, aren’t I. Yeah. Whatever.
What has happened to my endless positivity and joy? I am constantly content and happy and active, I get excited about everything. I walk all the time.
Okay, okay, pity party over, everyone go home.