Here's the 2nd one:
I can go to Kansas City, shop all day by myself, eat dinner at a restaurant by myself, then go to a movie yesterday by myself and feel totally and completely content.
But then I'm alone the past two nights at home and I can hardly stand how lonely I am. I tried reading but it was so silent so I had to watch two movies just to pass the time. I hate that feeling. I hate that when it comes right down to it, I am lonely.
I went with a friend downtown Friday evening for a music crawl except we only ended up hearing 2 bands for about 10 minutes each. The music wasn't her style and it was too loud. I couldn't help but wish I had someone, male or female, who I'd be able to sit in a bar with and just listen to a band. My roommate would but she was with her boyfriend. And the most recent "idiot" would too, except, well you know.
I have a test on Wednesday that I really should've studied for but I have absolutely no motivation. I don't have much motivation for anything really. There is a lot I have thought about doing and need to do. . .but none of it is getting done.
I keep thinking about my life, especially thinking about the things I wish I could do, things I always dreamed of. . .and how really none of it is happening. And being alone just gives me more time to think of it. Did you know that when I was younger, in addition to singing quite well, I would always start writing a book? I started many stories. . .most of them were pretty much identical to what I read in the Laura Ingalls books but I always tried to come up with something new. Once I even tried writing a story about a family in the Civil War. . .one in which the mother has died, leaving 3 kids to fend for themselves while their father is fighting. Eventually they hear that the father is wounded in a hospital so the youngest daughter goes to find him. Her older sister keeps bringing money home though no one knows how, although the older brother has his suspicions that it's not earned in the most respectable manner. I also used to write poems.
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