If I drank I would be drunk.

Today I just want to go home. Back to my mom. And I want it to be Christmas. And I want my brother and sister to be at home, and I want it to be night time, and I want there to be a fire in the fireplace and I want to be drinking hot chocolate and I want it to be like it should be. I want to be happy. But I’m not. I just watched a Christmas episode of Grey’s Anatomy from last season, and that’s what makes me want Christmas, but I have been feeling so lonely lately, and that isn’t from TV. I have made myself stay up till 9 so that I’m not that pathetic, but I literally have nothing to do sometimes, or what I have to do is not urgent, or just as depressing as not doing anything. I know that I’m a first year teacher, and that I should be run off my feet, and I am busy, and I have a lot to do all the time, but there seems to be that hour or two every couple of nights where I should be going out and having fun or something, and I don’t have anything to do. This lack of anything to do is coupled with a breakup that feels sometimes like I’m going to be fine, and sometimes like my heart is made of lead and pushing out of my chest. So what I want right now is to run away. I wish I wasn’t a grown up and I wish I didn’t have to worry about work and money, and I wish I could just go home and curl up on the couch and cry and cry. And then I wish that I could just be happy. But I don’t think I’m going to be until I’m not waiting for that “person” that is finally going to make sense with me, and I know that I’m not supposed to have emptiness and that God is supposed to be filling me up so that there is nothing lacking, but I feel so empty and I think that we just need touch sometimes, just physical contact. And with no one around and the one person who was around every once in a while out of the picture, there is no chance of that happening. So I’m just alone. And my birthday week starts this week, and I’m going to be 24, and its such a non-event, and I love my birthday, but it makes me sad because its not special this year. It was supposed to be the first year ever that I was going to have a boyfriend at the same time as my birthday but its not now. Now its just another birthday. I’m just older, and more pathetic, and obviously a bit depressed. And I’ll get presents, and I’ll be smiling and laughing, but what happens when I come back? Nothing will change. It will just be me, fine in the day, and alone at night. Fighting the moths that keep getting into my apartment mysteriously. Its 9:22, I can go to bed now.