recent conflicting statements i've made here and elsewhere regarding the issue of 'settling' have made me realize, more so at least, that, while deep into a drawn-out diatribe against the world, feeling as though all of your innards are actually one swirling black mass, having sadness and pain tunnel vision any perspective you've had, listening to a continual playlist of angst and/or depression ridden music, and having no one giving you any reality or perspective at the time, it is far too easy to paint oneself a martyr of sorts. so, sitting on a shelf is settling, i agree. i guess i'd rather be sitting on someone else's shelf, rather than my own, but that isn't really an option, nor one i'm sure i'd take were it. i don't want to settle, but i may settle for it [settling, i mean]. [the word 'settle' is starting to piss me off.]

i've not eaten anything proper in about twenty-four hours [and extremely little at all], and i'm at the point in the hunger cycle where i've lost the hunger i had before my nap. someone take me out.

i need a romantic year. i've had four consecutive depressing summers, no wonder i hate the season so much.

the texts and books i've had to buy for classes look interesting at least.

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