some sunshine would be nice.

Dear Journal, I just wanted to say that all these images of ending my own life and feeligns of hopelessness really do not make my days any easier. If you could please talk to my reptillian brain and ask it why it's not letting my survival instincts kick in and wash all of this away I'd really appreciate it...even though I know you aren't real...or even a journal really.

Fuck.

Again, malcontent and depressed.

I have a hard time seeing the right choice...it's existence really.

If it's the choice I make then it is indeed the right choice correct?

But I feel as if all my choices are so fucking wrong. Leaving the state taught me a lot. Returning taught me much more.

So now I have no income, no job, my car needs repairs... I can't sell it, how long will it run me?

Not that it matters without a job to put gas in the tank. Why did I come back? To get my tools and stay the hand of homesickness...yet now I cant afford to go back, with my tools or not, with my car or not...

Don't get me wrong, I love it here, I just hate it here too.

I think more and more obsessively about joining the millitary...then I remember that I hate mornings, and discipline... and then I think that I'm just a whiny neurotic bitch,and then I ask myself why I can't get a fucking job doing what I'm good at...and finally what the fuck am I good at?

I've been told I need to write out what I want to do with my life...problem is I have no fucking clue, as a kid I wanted to be a transformer...Optimus Prime to be more precise. ..problem with that is I can't survive on diesel and omni-spark...fml.

I do know that I want to drive...or fly...or something...see there's that problem.

Also since I got home, I haven't drawn...I've gained weight, I feel stuck again...in a worse way then just being stuck in my uncles house...it's like my soul is stuck...like the coolant stopped pumping and my soul pistons seized in the cylinders...like I'm really, royally, fucked.

anyway...