It has just grown dark. The cold wind that floats in through the open window is counteracted by the warm blanket my laptop creates on my lap.

I am sick of so many things, but I am ready for even more.

I am sick of being sick. I'm sick of the pills and I'm sick of the anxiety. I'm ready to move. I'm ready to leave this town, full of ex-boyfriends. Why did they all come HERE? Yes, I'm sick of them. I'm sick of running into them and feeling every string of my heart plucked in painful and sickening ways.

Today I'm sick of the aching behind my eyes from reading too much and worry. I'm ready for this next week to be over. Wednesday is going to be a great day. I'm sick of the lump in my throat that causes me to cry every time it gets too frustrating. I'm sick of the feelings pulsing underneath my skin.

I have the vague feeling that I'd like to eradicate everyone who ever knew me from my life and live somewhere where they only haunt my dreams. The "issues" are there all the time. When I wake, when I sleep. Oh, always when I sleep. My dreams force me to look at all the nasty truths that I try to hide during the day. I'm a very active dreamer, and my dream mind doesn't let me get away with anything. Those thoughts, those images, I can't get away from them.

The calendar is full; I can see it from this end of the room, each day holding something hard and uncomfortable. No relaxation. I want out. I need out. I'm tired of all the expectations. I know they are mine, and I have to keep them.

I'm ready for this next phase, this next step, but I'm plagued with questions and doubts. I don't change easily; I wish I were flexible. I wish I were serene.

Sometimes I have this out of body view of myself, tall and large-chested, talking loudly. It worries me, because all I've ever wanted was to be willowy and serene. I can never be willowy and serene. I'm stuck with this girl, with all her faults, clunking through life, not knowing why.