I feel like I'm doing so many things but not really getting anything done.
I am writing a lot of poetry and editing a lot of old poems. I have about 500 poems on my computer, some no longer than a few lines, some pages long. I'm trying to sift through them and all the corresponding memories. I have been writing a lot of poems to my little sister. I wonder if she would like them if she ever read them. She doesn't like Kurt Vonnegut very much. She misses Japan a lot. She was rejected by her first boyfriend.
I'm getting wanderlust again. Someone move to the country with me. I want to throw paint on to walls, walk around with no pants on all the time, make delicious pies, roll around in grassy fields and listen to music at top volume. I want to live someplace that resembles here. Animal skeletons optional, but preferable.

I am so emotionally exhausted.

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