I feel like I'm bobbing aimlessly in the middle of the sea. I have to mentally tell myself to do something. I don't really know what to do. I'm not hungry, yet I know I have to eat. I don't have to get ready, yet I have to maintain the outward appearance of everything being just as it always is, of everything being fine, so that my sister doesn't suspect.
Eat breakfast, take a vitamin, get dressed, make lunch, etc.
Let everything go on as if it's normal . . . as usual, there is no normal.
It feels as though everytime I finally get ahead, I get bumped back another few spaces. I have to mentally exhaust myself just to maintain where I'm at, and physically drain myself just to get ahead. And it's sad how true that is. I need to stop wallowing. I just have to stay . . . dry, until my sister leaves. That's about half an hour. Then I can have my little sobbing session, and get on with my day. I need to do something, anything. Just something to keep me busy. Something, something, something. Like typing. Perhaps I'll write on my book. Or write a poem. Yeah, a happy one, I can do that . . . I think. Or email my teachers, ask them for homework. Well, not really ask for homework, but ask what we're doing in class today, that I'll miss, or rather, that I won't be there to do. I won't really miss it, personally. But it is busy work, so maybe in a way I do miss it.
Shit. I'm not making any sense, and I probably sound as if I'm about to lose my mind, or blow my lid, or whatever that saying is. Perhaps I should go now. I'll update eventually, so you'll know whether I've suddenly gone insane or not. For now, I need to find some sort of alternative to listening to music until my MP3 is charged. Damn. I knew I should have charged it last night when it died. No matter. I'll survive, I always do, somehow. I just wish I knew how.
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