deep down, i’m sad. anxious. and trying not to worry. i haven’t been creative since moving here and it’s killing me. my momma told me I let myself go since my relocation and to be quite honest, i have. i don’t care. i don’t really give fuck about shit, other than sleep.  i use to drink to wash away the pain, now I just sleep. i’ve been working out lately in hopes that it’ll work on my soul. it helps. sometimes. sometimes, i just don’t know. i’m glad I have Skye with me. she’s my only genuine friend that truly understands and loves me here. i wish i could escape in the sun and see my family whenever i want. i could but i don’t. i just hope that in the end, when I’m 30 i can leave behind the uncertainty of my twenties. i hope these next thirty days before my thirties brings a better peace of mind.

[These are my open notes that I’ve hidden from the world.  Over the next month, I am making them public until my birthday on April 14th.]