As my friends are asleep in the hotel room, a result of a tiring day of walking in Madrid and a lack of sleep from the night before, I'm left here alone. Unable to turn on the tv for fear of waking them up and having forgotten to bring a book to chase away the boredom.
Outside, I'm tired. But not because of a lack of sleep or anything else. I'm tired because I feel turmoil. Inside.
Today I went from dating a guy to now just being friends. I went from being able to have a good friend to now hoping that she'll forgive me for my transgressions.
Today I was alone by myself the entire day. Figuring out what the fuck I wanted to do with my life. What the fuck I'm doing at all, really.
I'm in Madrid. Most people would kill to come here. Most people are envious that I'm here holidaying at an exotic European destination.
And yet, I can't fully enjoy it because my life, as usual, is full of fuck.
And now, I lie on my hotel bed, wondering about the consequences of my decisions.
I don't know what I'm doing sometimes.
I don't even know how to begin, what to begin doing...
Sent from my iPhone
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