2012-04-08 / 4:26 p.m.

I amble around a Scottish city for days, scratchy throat, tired eyes, the barman is named Craig and he mentions that I look older than I am. I feel old. I lose my phone in the basement of a club full of what looks to be sixteen year olds. No technology and no contact. I almost get myself in a fight. At least if it hurt, I'd feel it. I get taxis to obscure places, pay the fare and walk straight back to where I started. I watch the sky. I pray for rain. I run out of money. I have nowhere left to turn.
I stay awake but I must sleep. I do not deserve to feel any lower than I already do.