Reason Number ?????: ??????

Bulldozed. All I want to do is search eBay for deco blouses and suede boots and Chanel flats while my cat bites my feet. New beginnings, new anxiety, new desperately seeking reasons not to. Thesis advisory, joblessness, the silver lining (which certainly is NOT the fact that I just said "silver lining") being endless time to work on thesis without money for recreation, distraction. I want to take a road trip somewhere, revisit, rewrite, edit my life into oblivion and reconfigure. Reconstruction is the name of the game. The name of the game? Cliche, apparently. The names of trees in my brain always. Sometimes I feel the person I was at fourteen was a different beast altogether, and other days I wake up, her again, and terrified. But all I want to do is write, but now I'm too scared to write, and sometimes even read. But I gotta choose a thesis advisor, and go to yoga, and spray medication up my nose, and put one foot in front of the other foot. And there are a billion books I've been meaning to read but haven't, having been busy, so here I am.