Rainy Sundays.

The time changed last night, and we lost an hour. I fell asleep at 5 a.m. and woke up at 6 a.m. in a massive sweat. I don't know why, and I can't recall how my dreams went.

I have these massive papers to write, and a week and a half to do them.

To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about you, since currently I feel nothing but perhaps frustration. But the thing is, the thought of starting conversation with you again is exhausting to me. And I guess it's really as simple as that. I don't have any interest in adding any more weight to my life at present time. And maybe that makes me a bitch. Maybe that makes me complicated in this attempt to uncomplicate my life. But it is what it is, isn't it?