"this is no room at all, why don't you pour me a fuckin drink?"
Let me start out by saying that I am probably committing some kind of sin by sitting on my roof under the stars and moon (covered by clouds) tapping away on my computer. But it's already polluted by city lights and city things, so perhaps I am not ruining anything that isn't already. Being home is strange, and I have been writing letters, some of which I've been sending, other sitting in my binder trying to decide if they are worth sending or not. I've been hanging out on the roof a lot, and I have this vision of myself being seen from someone flying higher up, a girl, in the middle of her room, lit up by the glow of her computer screen. Being home is the strangest sort of lonely, the biggest sort of disconnect, like I am out of touch with everyone. Not just not in communication, but like somehow I forget how to relate to people normally. It feels so much nicer on the roof, less claustrophobic, and I wonder what it would look like if we all had our beds set up on the roofs of our houses. I am not lonely in the sense that I am dying for company, but it would be nice to have someone to sit and gawk at the sky with me,
I sound so dumbly introspective, home just gives me too much time to think and even though I am trying to stay busy, it is not quite working.