Grr

I've hit a funk. Big surprise. it seems that I made an effort this semester to not overload my schedule, and as a result, I have plenty of time to sit around and think about what's wrong with my life instead of actually doing things to make my life better. I've gotten to that point where I just want to move back in with my parents and be the spinster with a million cats that the universe seems to be insisting that I should be. And I really hate that I'm still thinking about a boy that doesn't deserve to have me thinking about him, and it irritates me even more to think that he probably hasn't even given me a second thought. Jerk. This isn't supposed to be this way. Something is wrong. Either with me or the universe. Or maybe I just need to leave this place forever. Sometimes I think I really love it here but lately I have not been thinking that. I've started thinking about what it would be like to move to upstate New York or Minnesota. Somewhere where no one would ever look for me. I guess my parents' basement fits into that category as well. Grr. I hate feeling depressed.