What's Wrong With Me?

I think I might be dead on the inside. Do you ever feel that way? It's Friday. It's nice out. I have lots going on in the next few weeks. And still, I feel pretty empty, creatively. I feel like the vanilla ice cream at Baskin Robbins - good enough for most old people, and that's about it.

I also had a dream that I had to take care of a baby last night. I kept trying to get the birth mother to straighten up, stop acting a fool, and take care of her newborn, but after she put it in a pillowcase and started swinging it over her head I decided to step in. I can't fucking believe there is anything inside me that wants children, so what the fuck is that about? I mean, if I knew I would want babies one day, I wouldn't have aborted all those fetuses back before the long-term drug abuse (surely) scarred my insides.

I'm just kidding. I totally still would have. I have no sense of consequence.

I feel lonely.