Well, NaNoWriMo was an absolute bust. I spent most of November buried in homework and sick. My final word count was just shy of 15,000. A dismal attempt, to say the least. With any luck, I will still be around next year to try again.
As December arrived, and is now steadily passing me by, I find myself consumed by my own depression, wishing this year would just be over all ready. Maybe the next one will be better.
Maybe it won’t though. What if we have another year that is identical to this one? This year has not been good to me. It hasn’t been “the worst” but it’s been pretty close.
I don’t want to write.
I don’t want to read.
I don’t want to watch television.
I don’t want to play video games.
I want to cry and sleep.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.