Today I sat and cried in the middle of class for the umpteenth time, only it's okay because I am in an art course and that's what they want. They want to evoke emotion and impurities and they show us all of these beautifully fucked up films about life and death and the things that flail about in between. I feel disconnected in a way that I don't think I have done before, more and more I find it difficult to raise up my chin. I'm not hiding behind a metaphor, I mean, I literally can't lift my head up sometimes because I'm too busy being fixated on my feet. My head isn't working, honest. I sat with people I met only a few months ago and they tried to teach me how to play poker, like I swore I'd learn all those years ago when life was day by day, when getting out of bed was the best achievement I was ever able to muster. I didn't get it, I don't get it and I don't know why I can't understand things like other people do anymore. I'm supposed to be good at analysis because it's all I seem to do, but in honesty, I don't know how to pull things together. I am too busy relying on silence to fix things up right. I abandoned my car in the snow almost three weeks ago and I've been walking most of everywhere. I find myself stumbling in circles and never really leaving my comfort zone and yet I'm maintaining a facade to god knows who that I am improving by leaps and bounds because, god, they ask but they honestly don't want to know. I don't know. I want to be articulate and I want to get this out but I don't know what this is but I can't. My everything is all a muddle, and to be honest, I just really need a hug right now.