I have to be up in another seven hours and I have more work to do in the next three days than I want to think about, but I can't sleep. So I'm writing.

I'm afraid, because I don't know what to do with my life, what it's doing, and all that. I want a job. I want an apartment. Mostly, I want to be happy.

I have no job, and no way to afford an apartment if I had one. Which I don't. I only have a shrinking checking account (Where the fuck did all that graduation money go? Have I really spent it on stupid things like paying my phone bill, buying groceries, and chipping away at my credit card debts -- actually, more like just chipping away at the interest that's accumulating on those debts. Tackling the actual debts would be a bit more than I can handle.)

I'm trying to stay positive about publishing camp, but the truth is, I feel like somewhere between the orientation barbeque and the quasi-cocktail parties, I failed to live up to some potential. Whatever it might have been. Maybe I was supposed to maybe a hundred new friends and dazzle all of our speakers with my amazing charm, but instead, I puttered off on the weekends to visit the friends I already knew in town and well, I'm shy and I don't like to be what we'll term the "Creepy Networker."

And to add to all this uncertainty and negativity that keeps clouding my mind when I ought to be enjoying my precious hours of sleep, I am consumed by a wave of goddamn nostalgia tonight, wherein I miss everything and everybody, especially those I cannot have.

Tonight, I keep thinking I'd be happier in some other point in time, maybe in the past, maybe in the future; I'm not sure. Whenever I find myself missing things and wishing for something from before, I wonder exactly which moment I'd pick—which one would really make me happy? And I don't know. Maybe there was always something lurking in the shadows somewhere to make a Kodak moment imperfect. I like to think that down the road, I might find a time I'd always want to return to, some sort of happy golden years to come. Except even then, there will always be things I wish I could have done, or could be doing, and I know I can't. So I'm sorry.

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