'Enough of my philosophical rambling. Okay, that's a lie. Sometimes I'm sick of loving everyone. I'm sick of being the one people depend on. I'm sick of depenging on people. I care so much the skin under my fingernails bleeds and turns black, but I am rarely held, recognized, encouraged. Soemtimes lonliness makes me more vauge and cryptic'
I kind of want to sit down at the coffee shop and read this book.
And no,
not because she is there.
I would actually prefer her not be working there when I did it.
Just to assure that she,
nor anyone else,
would think I was doing it because she is there.
Then again.
I don't want to worry about what everyone else thinks i'm doing.
After all,
it is the only coffee shop in town other than stands.
I think i'm going to do that when I get a way into town.
Maybe mom will take me in on Monday next week or something,
is that place even open on Mondays?
Even if it isn't,
all the better.
That place has really good hot chocolate.
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