Hmm, reflective. Full of rich ponderings and other such mind jargon. Not sure what induced it. I've got a sinister case of unemployment-induced restlessness. I've also got the sense I'm morphing into a little island, dropped into a raging sea of anime and malnutrition (aka. Junk food maximum intake: Initiated).
Bleak. I escaped for two hours with a notebook in tow. Fled to the shores of Lake Ontario for a quiet stroll, carrying an impulse to write.
The more I avoid writing, the more anxious I get. Perhaps this is a sign.
This town is far too small for me now. I've known this for quite some time, but I still don't have the funds to escape. Turning this frustration on my room itself, cycling through rash decisions to purge items only to discover I need them later.
I've been dreaming of the west coast for months -- freedom. Those dreams were stoked once more after The Advocate traveled there for contract work. The U.K. is buried beneath immediate needs: more education, more cash in the bank, more direction. Ah, soon. Soon I'll cross the Atlantic for those shores.
Romantic notions seem crippling tonight.
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