Thursday - 30 minutes to bullshite (yes, I

The end is pulling me closer and closer. But at the same time, it's something illusive that I can't get to. I feel as though I'm holding my life with the tips of my fingers, straining to the limits of the incubator it's in, warding off disease and the dangers of the future. People keep telling me that I should enjoy the last of my time here, that I'll miss it, and on and on. To those people, I say, "Shut up. My life and yours are not the same, so do not compare. Shut up." I near the end of the first week. It's hell. Already. But there are only 15 more until I can spread my wings and hopefully pay off some bills.

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