This isn't life. This is happening somewhere around the corner and out of earshot of life. This is notes in the margin.
I don't want to be here anymore. It isn't home, it hasn't ever been home. I feel like a tourist in my own memory. I am done with this strange sunny weather. I want my stupid dingy apartment and my stupid boyfriend who might not be my boyfriend much longer and my ice and snow and stress and my whole stupid life back.