dear winter,
i can't fucking find your journal.
it's probably just laying somewhere, covered by a pile of clothes or something.
i really should clean my room.
it's usually fine, but i haven't cleaned it in a long time and it's gotten out of hand.
i just really don't feel like it.
i feel so fucking pathetic.
i don't feel like moping around, but it's still basically all i do.
jack's tried to text me twice today, but i haven't responded to either.
i also didn't see him today.
he wasn't in english.
whatever, his whereabouts aren't any of my concern.
but like, he never skips class.
maybe he got sick.
or maybe he was with corbyn.
oh my fucking god, i have to stop.
- daniel