Days like that.

I'm restless.
I'm laying on the floor although there's a bed less than a foot away.

"Girl interrupted" has been on replay for the last five hours.

I feel isolated for some reason, although I'm really not.

I find it funny how I feel so empty with a head full of thoughts and a heart that is full... of wasted emotions.

I guess the exhaust is from all the amount of open wounds.

There's so many things I'm thinking of: self image, my issues, my past, how I yearn to be whole.

I'm thinking I need to get the fuck out of Jersey.
I need to see some new faces, listen to different people speak, interact in a different environment; with such mellow vibes.

I'd prefer a better understanding of this so-called love. A genuine one at that.

It would also be cool if there were someone who actually understood what the fuck I was talking about half the time. I mean when I really talk, not just bullshit. But who the fuck can relate; I don't understand me sometimes. Things are so misconstrued. I'm so fucked up but I can still manage to be sensible.

Diagnosis: I'm losing the little bit of sanity I've got left.