I Used To Be A Writer
I used to know what I wanted in life. I was a little scared, not sure I was going to right way, but I knew what I wanted, I knew what I was working towards. But now, I work at a job I hate, that drains the life out of me everyday, and I come home, and all I want is someone to talk to. But I don't even have that. I spent so much time traveling, trying to be anywhere but here, I forgot to nurture those important relationships, those friendships. And now, when all I want is someone to talk to, someone to tell about my day, all I have is my computer, all I have is my notebook. And I can't even write what I used to write, I'm so emotionally and mentally exhausted by the end of the day, I have nothing left for anyone else, much less myself. I have to get out of here. But I don't know how. I don't know how to do anything anymore. Well, that's not completely true. I know how to be miserable. I do know that.