I started writing this in my own house, on my own couch about to fall asleep. Instead I'm now in his basement, writing on his computer.

I haven't recieved an e-mail which I'm sorry to say isn't bad. Not hearing from you allows me to pretend that you've forgotten about me, though I know this isn't the case. It's kind of frustrating knowing that there isn't a god damned thing I could possibly do. It makes me want to crack out my box of Lucky Strikes and smoke right through to the filter. I don't take solice in knowing that I'm probably ruining somebody's life.

Today was my only day off in a considerable amount of time. I slept in, but am tired. I relaxed, but am tense. I ate but am still hungry. It feels like my life is half-assed. I'm not sure if I even mind it.