Somehow the solitude isn't as it has always been. Somehow it's different. And somehow I'm not enjoying it anymore. But only for now, it's just one of those many mood swings.
9.30 on a friday night, empty house and a one man party. Minus the party part D:
I'm so vulnerable. A couple of months ago I remember writing how wonderful this is, how exciting, and that I know I'm going to fall in the end, and that I'm just digging a grave, but I loved it.
I am such an idiot.