Remembering.

It's funny what you remember when you're lying in bed at 4 am, sick and starving because you ate food, just the wrong kind.

I should have looked at him when we were dancing. Maybe then he would have told me that I looked pretty.

I want to write so bad I can feel words on the tips of my fingers burning to get out. I just wish I had some motivation. I wish I had more faith in my work. But I just end up hating everything I write down.

I'll keep trying, though.