Fuck this. Honestly. I know what I want but for some reason I'm unconsciously refusing to accept the emotions that go along with it. I'm sitting in English, miserable, eating bread. It's too hard to find a point when I'm denied happiness for several hours of the day. I am not true, I am not false. Am I? It's the same mood from last night, but this time I can't listen into a phone and nod my head as if I undertand-I didn't. Nor did I agree. I'm volatile, I am bitter, I am eating too much bread. Why won't the sky allow it to be seven hours ahead of now? Is there a purpose in making me wait? I'm so not here that I'm not even caring what people might get out of this, go ahead and misconstrue what it is I have to say. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.