this isn't what I set out to write

It's early for me but late for most of grown-ups.
I keep wondering when adulthood will set in. When I become responsible? Maybe.

I've been super moody for approximately five days. Okay, maybe more. Okay, most of the time.
A bit of a heaviness in my chest.
I don't think that drinking all the time makes things better, but it's hard to resist.


Besides being kind of a terror on my cords and furniture, Theresa is also frustrating because she refuses to be cuddled. She'll sit beside me briefly for concentrated attention but will not be picked up or hugged or kissed or manhandled in any way. But that is what I want to do!


I miss Saskatoon. I miss previous ideals and I feel like I'm missing a specific sense of hope. I think I'm just in a temper. I think it's just the seasons.


I'm not sure I'll be able to come home for the holidays until around the 21st of December and that's annoying. Hopefully I'll be able to stay a bit into January? To stay up late bothering my mum and to accost several cats (and by cats I mean both felines and cool peers).



I've been thinking a lot about morals recently. Lines that we draw, our sense of right and wrong, the way that societal norms make certain things okay, the way that friends' acceptance make certain things okay.


I want to live in a small bubble of a city where everyone has the same values and principles and moral standards as I do and everyone is left-wing and no one drives high or eats animals they haven't killed themselves and we plant rooftop gardens and outlaw plastic and play with babies and don't have secrets.

Because secrets make bad behaviours so easily repeatable.
If no one knows, then what you did isn't bad.