I feel like crying at this particular moment in time. I don't really know why exactly, and I am not going to physically shed even an ounce of a tear right now, but I feel like I should do so, even if I don't. I am sitting on my bed, alone in my house. It is cold outside, and, even though the heating has been burning up increasingly expensive gas for the past twenty minutes or so, my body and my bones feel a strong chill all around me. I am full up from a cut price duck wrap I purchased from Boots a few hours ago, and a cup of English tea - the greatest drink ever invented by the hands of man, and I am considering going to bed very soon purely because I feel unable to achieve anything of progressive note in this moment. But I will probably procrastinate on the internet for a while, and up reading about the current state of Pro-Wrestling, even though it is a product I have not actively viewed for a few years now. I trained at the gym today and enjoyed working out, as well as engaging in the few random yet general conversations which took place there and around Harrow, as they usually do. My stomach feels inflamed from the usual overload of Starbucks coffee, and I am wishing my kitchen contained some Imodium somewhere, but I know it doesn't. I am still thinking about the point my girlfriend made about human denial, and that it is a kind of necessity to our species, and that the more I try to change the basic outlook, the more I become an enemy as opposed to a considered friend. I now wonder why I give a shit anyway, and am finding it harder and harder to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the roller coaster ride that is our lives. Next door's baby is crying through the thin layer of the walls between us, and I wonder how Mothers manage to handle such an incredibly difficult task, then realize the answer is that they just do. I am writing total crap right now. Writing for the sake of writing, which isn't really writing. I am wondering if this book will ever sell, and if I am smart enough to become more than I feel I am. I feel alone, but not lonely. I feel tired, but not sleepy. I am wearing a mask which has been on so long I am starting to forget it is a mask at all, and am not too sure who I am anymore - even though I know tomorrow I will be back to my usual self... at least I think so. I haven't cried, I won't cry, I can't cry. But maybe I will have another cup of English tea... maybe... always maybe.