alone time
I have a Spanish exam in the morning. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life. I wish I could just write and make art forever without having to worry about bills.
River says I’m talented. I’m not sure I believe him. Is writing really a talent? Maybe. My depression is creeping back, as if it’s a sly cat, readying herself to attack its prey. I haven’t been taking my meds again. River is staying in my room until his mattress comes. I miss my own space. I miss being alone.