But why to I feel so lousy? And I'm not really convinced that it's just because I miss my family and my bed and the smell of my old room. I guess that's all part of it.
But I'm scared that I might be slipping into depression. And I don't want to go back there ever again. I'm trying to keep myself out of it. But sometimes I don't even care enough to try and drag myself out. And that's when I get sadder because I've realized it's already started to penetrate me. And I wish I could go back to where I was.
So I'm trying to concentrate on doing well in school (2nd semester started last week) and my writing in order to distract myself. I'm toying around with these two ideas, both romantic stories. I guess that's what happens when you're pretty much going through a personal drought for a time far longer than I would like to mention. Both stories are a bit far fetched, and I haven't decided whether or not they would be better as screenplays or novels. One's more of a dramatic romance story and the other is an eccentric romantic comedy.
School's been going pretty well, although I wish my classes were similar to my friend's classes because all of our breaks are all over the place and I don't see them in between classes as much as I'd like.
Also, I'm pretty much an adult now. Since moving into this new apartment in manhattan, I have to go food shopping. And do all of my own laundry. And remember not only to feed myself, but to eat healthy too. And I have to buy things I would have never thought of buying before, like hand soap and q-tips. And I have to make my bed now because I'm sharing a bedroom with someone other than my messy sister. But the sad thing is, that's really not adult at all. I don't even pay taxes or have to deal with health insurance yet. And I know in the back of my mind if any emergency ever happened, or I was desperate for money my parents would totally help me out.
How on earth am I going to deal with real adulthood in a few years?
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