2AM. Wednesday
Current mood:  blank

I wake up from some sort of late night nap and my feet are too cold. They hurt. The only reason I get up is the feeling of 'wanting something' and not knowing what. I found that instant oatmeal, undercooked, was enough to fill that what.

I write a poem about anger although I am not angry currently. It perfectly describes what it's like to be that way, even without feeling it.

I decide to make my first blog post in years. It is simple and plain and boring. No one will care. That's okay.
I write another poem or two before going to place myself directly into the spot in the guest bed that I peeled myself from about half an hour earlier. This time though, I decide to bring a blanket.