why do I do this

I don’t know why I do things sometimes. Why do I want to be eternally unstable aka an actor/writer in New York City? Why don’t I call my grandparents more often? And why did I stay up until 3 am reading through every single hyperlink in the Wikipedia entry for “Genetically Modified Organisms”?

I wake up in the morning exhausted, though I certainly haven’t been doing any work you could call back breaking. I shuffle over to my well of masochism creativity only to have the bucket come up empty time and time again. I get frustrated. I drag myself to work. Coffee, eye contact and conversation, in that order. And then drag myself home. I burn out.

Earlier tonight Kaitlin graced me with