I don’t like being defined.
Lately, I feel as if I’m stuck in a glass box. Everything I want is right there, but I just can’t reach it. I’m stuck in some sort of invisible limits.
And it sucks. Totally sucks.
I would elaborate more, but instead, I’m going to let it go for now. I have an apple streusel muffin sitting next to me, and Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I can brood tomorrow night when I’m in a food-induced coma.