Our Endless Numbered Days

I'm never going to change, you're right.

You make me want to cry sometimes because of the way you say things, but I would never tell you that, sorry.

I'm going to go alone because no one seems to be able to get it.

I don't even know why I am wasting my time writing this.

EDIT

How melodramatic do I sound? I need to get into an art class soon, and I am considering taking that ceramics class. I used to feel more creative, but I do not know where all of that feeling disappeared to. Hopefully, I can regain at least a fraction of it, and put some energy into research and compassion, since I feel a lack of it lately. I do miss when I would sleep less, and write more.

I sort of want to try writing a series of short stories, although, I am not sure whether or not I would get it published or if I would just keep it to myself... you know, for when I am old and senile. My husband will bring it out to me when I am telling him how goddamn lazy I was when I was younger.

What am I even talking about? Maybe I do need to get some sleep... well, sleep and a soy-coffee-banana-iced smoothie. If only you knew. I'll make it for you one day, if you ask.