And The World Moves On...

Last night I dreamed that I was with a bunch of people hiding in a hospital from zombies. In the dream, I had an asthma attack and even though we were in a HOSPITAL, we couldn't find any inhalers or anything to help.

All of the other people there had everything they needed; food, water, guns, and ammunition, but I didn't. It scared me.

These last few months have been a roller coaster. My dad and I were getting along famously before I went back to visit my mom in Arizona. When I was there, he and I got into a fight over the phone because I wanted to bring my brother back with me and he wouldn't allow it.

Now, we don't talk at all. I hide in my room working on my novel and only leave it to shower and go to work.

My friends don't have time for me and even if they did, I'm not sure if I would actually make an effort to hang out with them. It's not that I don't love them or miss them, I just haven't been very happy. When I'm not happy, I don't want to hang out with anyone.

I'm revising what I've written so far for my novel yet again. Somewhere along the lines, even though it's in first person narrative, it got less personal. I stopped being able to see what my main character saw in the words I was typing.

Yes, I'm writing the book for myself and the urge to share my ideas, but I want people to be able to understand it! I want them to be able to see it in their heads when they read it. I want the audience to actually feel like they're right there with the main character through all of it.

Unfortunately, I must admit, I'm not one for hard labor... and novels are definitely hard labor. So far it has taken me almost a year to write 139 pages in this novel.

In so many aspects of my life I just feel hopeless right now. I have a job, but most of my money goes to bills and I can't afford a car, if I could, I probably wouldn't be able to afford the insurance.

I'm desperate to get out of my crappy little town, but I know that my problems will only follow me to where I set down my roots next. Wherever I go, I'm going to feel detached from everyone around me.

I don't want to talk to anyone except my friend from out of state that sometimes calls, but he hasn't called in a while.

No one cares what I have to say or how I feel and I'm used to that. It's fine, I get it, everyone has their own problems to deal with. Logic doesn't do much to make me feel better, though.