I’m going to have to back date these entries if and when I get any internet.
Star date 2040.
Lack of internet means that I can’t cause myself anymore heartbreak. But it also means that I am completely and utterly alone during the day. Which means that my brain is free to wreak wrath upon itself. God. FUCK. I miss you. I miss you.
I want to start writing. I keep dreaming that I should, but I have no starting point. I keep dreaming that I have these fantastic ideas, but they never materialise when I wake up. As much as I joke about ‘The Black man and the African Grey’, I need something serious. Maybe a trashy romance route?
I’m just gonna eat. And read my new book.
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