Woo hoo. The muses certainly must like me today. In a fit of acute productiveness, I completed two stories I've been working on for the last several months. It's good to get those on paper. Plus they're not half-bad. It's a damn good feeling.

Then I got a headache.

Then I talked to Avril, for the first time in what seems like years and years. I used to be so close to her. I felt I could tell her anything. Nothing was forced; talking was just easy. But since those summers, we've just moved apart. It's very sad. I told her so. Her response was "Yes, I miss it, too"—which just affirmed that it was gone. After I hung up I sat on the couch and stared at the wall. The whole thing made me very emotional. If I wanted to cry, I very easily could.

It's like someone else has lived my entire life up to this point, and I've only now taken over.

Maybe I'll put some Radiohead on. Get quietly drunk. Alone. At four-something in the morning. Maybe I'll do all of this sitting in the bathtub with a razor in my hand, just to scare my roommates. Ha ha ha wouldn't that be so much fun OH GOD MY HEAD.