#5.

How hard it seems to be, to come across some true inspiration. I don't draw in my free time. I should.
I'm writing... now. But everything I have to say just feels so bland. Nothing to it.

I'm so boring. :(

It's gray outside today.
I'm at work for another 5 hours. Customers irritate me. Leave me alone. I don't want to answer your stupid questions about whether or not the over-priced dishes are dishwasher safe. Who cares? Go to Thrift Town or Goodwill & buy something that doesn't require wasting more resources & materials than we have. Jerk.

I wish I had a boy. I hate saying that. It sounds so petty. But, goddamn it. It's so true. I hate this lonely feeling constantly hovering just above me, then sinking low enough to cloud my brain with unbearable depression for at least an hour every day. Why am I so unwanted? I've dated, oh, say... 10 guys in the past year... & not a single one is interested in anything but what I've got to offer from the neck down. Fuckers. :(

Well shit. That last paragraph totally fucked up my mood. This is not going in a good direction.
I don't want to be here. I don't want to be anywhere. I'm lonely everywhere I go, anyways.

This is not supposed to be an emo pity-me type of journal entry. I just need to write. I need to find a flow.

Flow.
Sticky sweet clouds. Whipped cream clouds.
Stop.

I have five $1 bills in my wallet. I am tempted to go to the cafe next door for some coffee.
I spent $140-something last night at Walmart, so as to re-furnish the kitchen/bathrooms in my apartment after my roommate leaves & takes everything. I only had $130-something in my bank account. That was the remainder of my paycheck. I don't get paid again for another 11 days. Oh damn.

I can't.