(no subject)

Today I've packed my things to go back to my flat. It's no longer making me sad though. It will be nice to find a little peace and quiet. But... I will miss my family. I will hate it again, having to cook for myself every fucking day again, not having a soul to talk to, day after day. Funny though... I hate it when they talk to me all the time. When I can't spend my evenings as I please. When I'm forced to eat at certain hours... so why the hell do I feel wistful at all??? LOL

FREEDOM! Yeeehah! I'll be able to have a smoke when I want to and see the girls I like and stay in late as I please or sleep till 3 PM. Hell, why was I ever sad? *grins*

I just don't like having to pack all my stuff. grrrr.... It's so unnerving.

(no subject)

I'm happy... obviously the folks liked my story. This makes me very, very happy. It's true. I write what has to be written and I write what I want to read. But I need recognition, too. Or let's say... recognition makes it all easier for me. It's as if someone had lifted a rock off my chest then, which usually constantly presses down on me. This is one of the VERY few things that actually make me happy. To know that I could make other people happy with something that I have accomplished. With my own hands, with my words and my thoughts.

I know I will never have children. I will never leave anything behind but people's memory of me and what I did. Maybe this is why it makes me happy---