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letters i've written

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"letters i've written, never meaning to send...just what the truth is, i can't say anymore"
-moody blues, "nights in white satin"
i get into these confused days where i'm not even sure of who i am anymore.  like today.  i'm not sure what i want at all.  and i feel so horribly shitty.  i have a paper and reading log due in an hour and i haven't even started, and i'm not quite caring.  i mean, i'm more worried about my lack of caring than i am about not having my paper.  i don't want to work hard and i hate how i feel conflicted between this need to work hard and this need to fuck it all... like, i feel like society is telling me that in order for me to be successful, i have to work hard, but for some reason, i don't care.  i just want to be a lazy ass and do nothing but experience life and learn and laugh and write... but that probably wouldn't be good for writing material, really.  i mean, it probably wouldn't inspire me unless i was suffering somehow.  right?
i just don't know what i want anymore.  i don't even know how to articulate how i feel about not knowing what i want... it's like, i'm so lost, i can't even describe how lost i am.  it's like, i've got all these feelings that have no words to describe them.  it hurts to feel like this; i hate not being able to describe myself with words.  i love words; i'm a fucking writer.  what the hell is wrong with me? 
hm.  i'm upset.  everything is so much worse when one is upset.  sometimes, having friends call you or listen to you helps so much.  it sounds stupid, but i just love it when there's someone who understands or cares or listens or something like that... even if it is slightly embarassing.  thanks liz. 
i'm going to the library tonight with ann and i'm going to do my fucking paper.  i have to... this is my whole existence here.  on the line.  i've decided. 
tata mofos.