I had a donut for breakfast today, wow.

School was hellish, as per usual. I had two tests today – one for French that I swear I was ready for and Psych Stats, which I knew whole-heartedly would kick my ass. They both ended up throat-punching me - maybe I should have studied harder. Nah, maybe they should’ve actually made the study guides properly.

I was extra fake today. I went and voted for student elections that I didn’t care anything about and told these two girls, who truly seemed lovely (but way too uppity) that’d I’d been following their campaign and hoped they’d win. Then I sat in the student center for a good two hours, talking to people that I would honestly love to see be drawn for the Hunger Games.

This weather is killing me.

As I was driving home from school, I noticed that my gauge was very much on top of E, which was expected – I’ve been making way too many unnecessary trips for people who don’t actually deserve my company. Right now, I currently have $1.65 in my bank account, until Friday, so I haven’t been eating much. Maybe I’ll finally knock off a few pounds that I’ve been blaming on my birth control when it’s actually things like eating donuts for breakfast.

I’m faced with the question of what to write about each week, and as time progresses this question eats away at my mind. What do I write about this week? What unimportant nonsense will I wow them with today?

It’s been my dream to be a writer for quite some time now. I have journals stacked on journals stacked on even more journals, yet my mind draws a blank at the thought of muttering 500 words on a topic of my own choosing.

It’s 4:04 pm and I should really be getting up to go to work but the thought of leaving my bed and having to deal with middle-aged women and their coupons for over-priced name brand clothing makes me want to die.

Well I was late to work. I fell asleep, laptop sitting against my propped-up legs, light on.

Work was shit. I should have called off. A man hassled me for a package I told him we didn’t have, but he insisted I walk my happy ass to the back room three different times until finally a manager was called over. Of course, she was unable to find it as well – “it’ll be here tomorrow sir.” Yeah, suck on that.

The boy I’m talking to came over to keep me company – damn, I think I could be falling in love, as cliché as that sounds. I swear, saying something is cliché is so cliché. I mean, come on, I’m listening to ‘A Rocket to the Moon’ (shout-out to my emo pals back in middle school who lived for their shit). I’m cringing at myself, I need melatonin and a longer lasting nicotine buzz.

I’m leaving for the beach in two days – these trips don’t even seem real anymore. I feel like I am drifting in a life that isn’t my own anymore. I don’t remember a time it did feel like I was living for me though.

People have stopped to ask me why I write the way I do and what made me develop a simplistic writing style. I think it is important to be an open book, and to share even the mundane aspects of everyday life. Some of us don’t have extravagant lives and for me, being relatable is my priority.

So, I’ll leave you all with some hopefully meaningful advice that I need to listen to myself: Stop caring so much. Stop making plans and thinking you have to be on the go 24/7. Take some “me” time: run a bath, listen to your favorite album, read a book, text your parents and tell them you love them. Enjoy the simplicities.