Still awake

Eh, sitting here in my room, bored/depressed and sober. Listening to Jeff Buckley, who I listened to the last time I was depressed. He's good for that. There is something about his voice that is amazingly fragile.

My bed is so damn uncomfortable, it isn't any wonder that I hate sleeping in it.

Anxiously looking forward to coffee with Lucy tomorrow, to exchange stories of our break.

Apparently we're the same person, but we're having trouble determining who's the evil one. It's me, by the way. She is not as callous as I.

It's so strange having a room to myself. I've always shared a room with my little sister (Heaven forbid that she ever finds this blog), so I'm incredibly used to having another person in the room. Not that I don't appreciate the solitude of course. I wouldn't be able to play my music if she was here.