fuck.
i don’t feel like writing anything. there is lots to write, but it reads boring. that seems to be the first word that’s coming out of my mouth lately. fuck.
fuck. fuck. fuck.
I’m so stagnant.
I want a job. I want to study. I don’t want to be bored and have so much free time. This isn’t me and I’m not made for this. I’m made for stress, for doing the impossible and doing a hundred things at once and having the friend circle to keep me sane. Now, with nothing to do I’m bored, I’m stagnant, I’m drying up. This needs to change soon. I need to get a job, only if to distract myself. And since lululemon seems to be ignoring my perfect resume, I need a plan B. I still plan on going there and stuffing it down their throat, but in the case that doesn’t work, I need a plan B. Plan B is not working at a clothing store for expensive men clothes. That’s plan 9. That’s after Plan A-Z and Plan 0-8.
fuck.
