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latest archive about email links yearbook japan photoblog wish list	Thu Aug 09 01 / 6:34 AM I don't like it here right now. Or at all. I don't know. What happened to the promise of the airplane ride? Where have I come? Brought myself? Gone? Don't think it's just my period - it's been one and a half months after all. I go up and down in the space of one line. I seem to think it would all be better if I had a job, although only a bartender's job. Coming all this way for nothing but that - it's all I want. This place is my nightmare. Everything I care about has been perverted: the family, the friends, conversation, love, is so far away, out of range of voice. My house is full of strangers who do things differently than I do. I get to play computer games so much I am sick of it, but keep on playing because there is nothing else to do. I have no access to books. It is pants and long-sleeves weather and I brought T-shirts. I don't even eat three meals a day, there are no snacks, I am not comforted by food. A month and a half of nothing but getting older has gone by, and I am paying money for it. With all my time alone to be nothing but myself - instead of a reaction to anyone else to keep me rounded - has emerged a sad sack. I am regressing; into the old antisocial sneaky lying prying dying soul. I miss my mystery. I want privacy, not to be private. I hate it here. No. No. That's not right. I hate myself here. It's really a lovely place.
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Lisa Higgs
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