Dear Diary,
I'm in the library, can you believe it? and I'm never going to get to leave, which is the sad part. I've spent about four hours writing one page of this essay. It's not going well. I'm taking a blogging break, to free my fingers from their paralysis. Because apparently the words just don't come when it's actually important. And when they do come, i have to delete them over and over again just to get one sentence. Frustrating! In this modern word processing age, I really don't think that a rough draft is a rough draft anymore. Because I rework everything approximately 55 times before i even complete a paragraph.
At least I'm in a study room with some homies. Because when you combine that desparate "I'm going to be here all night" feeling with that desparate "and so very very alone..." feeling, it's close to rock bottom. And the only things that deserve to be at rock bottom are rocks. not people.
Love,
Diana