I just need to stop thinking. Thinking leads to remembering leads to questioning leads to me staying up late at night with my only wish being that I could slip into a beautiful state of unconsciousness until I have to wake up for work. Instead, it's 1:11 am on Thursday morning in this sleepy little town and I'm sitting here at my computer wishing that things could be different.
But they can't be, and I hate that I'm wasting my time dreaming instead of living. Then again, I guess that's the price of living in a small town. I probably wouldn't have become a writer had I not been deprived of grand adventures. I have to have fun somehow.
Stranger, You and I by Daphne Loves Derby
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