Why is my life so fucking determined to be as difficult as possible? Why are my wants and desires (my real ones, the ones I don't tend to talk about, not the pissy little nothing things I usually talk about) treated as nothing? Am I so meaningless, so worthless?
Pondering driving to Virginia Beach tonight. I've got a three day weekend, but I'd have to face Memorial Day traffic. On the other hand, by staying home I have to face other things that I don't know if I can handle right at the moment.
I think I'm going to go walk. I don't know where, but that's the only way I can think of to clear my head.