My head hurts. Stupid headache. My heart hurts. Stupid emotions. Honestly, I'm now sure how I feel about life right now. I've pretty much given up fighting it. There's no point. One day everything that's all wrong will go away, and I want to be there for it. You know, I wish I could write. I know I say that now, but once I actually start writing, I'll hate it again. It's so sad when you can't enjoy writing even though it's one of your favorite things to do. Why did writing lose all its joy for me? Probably when I realized I wasn't going to finish my novel this summer. That's rather sad.