Lines to the Middle of Nowhere.

It's just about midnight and I should be going to bed soon. I put the kids down around nine and wrote my article for the UNEWS this week. I am not cut out to be a journalist. Good thing I'm an English Lit major. Babysitting these five little hooligans has made me think a bit about children. I enjoy being around them but they're so exhausting. My stance on children of my own: I would really like to know what it's like to be pregnant. Also, I'd like to be a mother, raise someone who depends on me completely at all times. Watch them grow and mature, develop from little alien babies to real living humans. That has been the strangest thing for me to watch in my nieces and nephews, seeing them become real living humans. I feel like I'm watching the future, and really I am. The way some of them have turned out so far is confusing, I guess I just don't expect them to have complex thoughts yet but they really do. I would really like to have at least one child. I hope...

I hope my father doesn't smell of Elderberries.

I hate being me sometimes... really... I hate being a human capable of emotion. Fuck that.

10: 16 pm It's chilly in my room. Winter is setting in and I'm working my space heater to the max. My skin is dry and starting to itch, I hate low pressure. Most nights like this I wish that someone I love were here with me. To keep me warm. My roommate brags about how much sex she gets. I get nothing but jealousy. Every day I think about things, people, I shouldn't think about. I can't help it, I'm sorry. As I begin to feel like I have control of my life, it starts spinning, slipping. I'm losing it again. I thought about talking the other day. It was a bad idea. I don't even want sex, I want love again. I want my love again. Moths beat themselves against my window. The lamp is so close to the glass, they just smash right against it. I am making a cake tomorrow. Chocolate with buttercream icing. "Happy Birthday Jade" I am terminally depressed. Sometimes I wish I would stop talking myself out of suicide. Maybe I'll really go to Pastry School. Wh...