It's a hell of a role

I hate coming home and finding my shit missing. Stay the fuck out of my room and if you steal my stuff at least have the decency to put it back where you found it. Especially my CDs, they're in alphabetical order so I notice when it's gone.

So it's just after one on Christmas and I can't sleep. It's probably the fucking caffeine but who knows at this point. My brain just won't turn off. For whatever reason I'm freaking out and I don't know why. I don't know why and that's making me freak out even more. Vicious cycle yeah? Maybe I just need to write something. Usually that fixes it. Writing usually solves the freaking out. Problem is I don't know what I need to write. That's never the hard part, the what. It's always the how that's the hard part. I just want to sleep. I want to sleep and not be freaking out. I want my opening shifts at Starbucks back. I want to be out of this house. I want...ah, fuck it. I don't know what I want anymore. I do know that I don't want to feel half drunk right now and I don't want to have to get up and be cheery in a few hours. Mostly, I want to be free. I don't think I quite know what that entails just yet so I'll have to work on it. But freedom is definitely desirable at this point.

I think I'm going to put some music on....maybe that'll work better. Unwind me a bit more. Fuck if I know what else to do at this point.