I didn’t write yesterday because I didn’t see the point.
And also because I ate until I couldn’t move.
I can’t focus on separating from myself and speaking from a younger age when I am so distracted by autocorrect and having to type so slowly.
I just want to whine and turn this into a diary. Which is the opposite of productive.
There is so much I want to say, but it’s stuck and can’t get out.
Only writing what I can is infuriating.
Maybe I can write on paper and transcribe. Until then (or at the end of the month when I move), I’m not sure what I’ll do. Hopefully not more of this.