This will be short but not unexpected because September, despite being my favorite month, goes by in a heartbeat and I never get anything done during it.
I'm not sure why I'm writing right now. I don't have anything to say, but this entire month I've been meaning to write, meaning to write, meaning to write but I've been drugging myself so my situation isn't as mind numbing. Only a few more days till it should change, but I wonder now... will it? Or will I be a different note in the song of wasted life than the people I wanted nothing to do with.
I've wasted a lot of time here lately.
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