Rainy Morning

It's morning, or something like it, for me anyway.

I am tired.

I am sick of school. And when I say sick, I mean it both figuratively as well as literally. I don't know how much more I can take. I am burned out.

I tossed and turned all night and awoke from startling dreams that jabbed my already opened and festering wounds, causing them to bleed even more. I hurt, therefore I am.

I feel not good enough, not strong enough, too much or too little. What I wouldn't do for a little mediocrity once in a while, just to spice things up with it's blandness.

My writing is not what I thought it was. It's certainly something I cannot create a career around. But then again, when God was handing out talent, I was at the mall.

I don't know where to go. I don't know what to do.

And I have never felt so alone.