It’s the end of the month and I feel like I don’t have much to say. I don’t think anyone is reading this much anyway.
Little bit of writers block…my Ritalin is expired…I’m still going to take it—fuck it ya know.
My uncle, who somehow bought my grandparent’s house years ago (shady and suspicious for a man who filed bankruptcy), is now selling it. This house that has been so important to me for my entire life. David has been talking me through it. It’s the memories that I get to keep forever even if a stranger owns the house. But that’s the thing, I can never just set foot in it whenever I want. AND I have to drive right fucking past it anytime I go to my best friend’s house. To see it and not get to ever go in it again feels really fucked up. It’s the end of a chunk of my life, an era. I get too attached to things. To the past especially.
It’s in my nature to live in the past. It’s not smart by any means. But then I stopped being smart after high school.
Also the show Rings of Power sucks so bad. Which is a huge let down to Tolkien fans like myself. It’s like a super depressed person wrote it who just said they were too sad to concentrate and just made a bunch of wild stuff up. I mean we’ve all been there—writing batshit crazy. But man, I wasn’t writing for the world ya know.