I feel like a load of shit. In a while I'm going to find some comfort, thereby actually making my failure okay with myself, making me an even bigger load of shit. So feeling good and accepting of myself isn't even an option.
I realized that my "best" friend has done nothing real in our relationship except for raise herself above me, take away my opportunities, and bring me down with negativity.
I watched television for more than an hour today, something I associate with the pigishness and unhappiness of today's society. It just gets worse, what will I do with my days?
What I want to do... is simply tell stories. It's my purpose. It's what I'm built for. Does anyone even want to hear the ones I tell? Am I just another writer? Am I going to end up like one of those old women who just tells everyone in the family who's getting married and pregnant? Will I even have a family?
If I just sit here and feel sorry for myself, I won't get anywhere. If I move on from this, I won't get anywhere.
I'm only nineteen and Ive fucked up this bad... I can blame everyone who's fucked with me and monopolized my time... but hey- it was my idea to go to college and FIND those people in the first place.