felt so alone this morning up until I got called "my own." have successfull applied to SUNY, but the other needs an essay, and I'm truthful enough but unimspired by the subject, this is why I don't want to write memoir. I have to wind myself into the silly little details of my life that sound boring as shit to me anyway you put it. I'd expected to hear it was all trash, not just the two parts that need rewriting and I'm trying to care enough to do them, but my mind keeps going back to the lack of milk for pancakes and not wanting to leave this room again, even the once felt like too much, but we;re running out of toliet paper and the sink is so full of dishes I had to fill the coffee pot in the bathroom. the dishes aren't mine. you're not here so I can't do them and make it something I'm doing for you/us, without you doing everyone elses dishes feels like an act of cowardice, like bringing up the TP could bring my presence into question. I should probably just go back to bed, but the sun is up and I can't sleep with the list in my head, of things I need to do,too long to be silenced.