Trying to stop using caffeine and melatonin, so I haven't slept well at all this week.  I remember how much I hate going to bed. 

I try not to write anymore, but sometimes I can't help it.  The words must go somewhere. 

Feeling pretty withdrawn from everyone.  I stop writing. I stop talking to people. I filter everything. If you can't say something nice...

Pretty frustrated with humanity.  I speculate it's the new job and having to pretend to be someone I'm not, and to play nice with people who grate on my nerves.  But I really just don't know. 

Frustrated with David's students for being stupid and apathetic.  Frustrated with myself for being stupid and apathetic and knowing better.  Frustrated that I have no idea what will make me happy. 

I like my music and my headphones and my books and my husband and my kids.  Threw in the towel today and watched a movie with kids upstairs, on a couch!  Pleased to be able to do so. 

Had my head down for so long, I need to find a new purpose now that there's room to breathe.  There's legacy work to be done.  Do I write?  All the townrats are grown, and teenagers today can bite me, and my Lost Prophets have gone down the drain.  What do I even have to offer anymore?  Angst I should have outgrown?  The mindhacker theory no one believes in but me?  My family of friends has grown distant and broken.  We've all become so...ordinary. 

Tired.  Weepy, and not sure why.