never-ending sunday.

it is hard to make friends here, and easy to write letters.

maybe things would feel easier if i had another job, but that requires me doing even more job searching, and i'm sick of that. really. and having time to myself is nice (although i'm not quite sure what to do with this much of it.)

creativity is becoming this strange creature lately that i can barely see. songs are not rolling out of me, but are in this cycle of trickle, trickle, pour; trickle, trickle, pour. nothing's gushing. i don't even feel like writing poetry. i don't even feel like singing sometimes.

i think it's time to take things in halves. it's easier to handle that way.

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