Monday, October 18, 2010

Monday Oct 18th 2010

Why is it no matter where I have been, no matter what it was that needed to be done, whenever I come home I want to fall to the floor crying or screaming? 
There is something wrong with my apartment.  Honestly, isn't your home suppose to be a place to relax and feel good? 
The second I enter the door to the building here I feel as if I'm walking through mud or jelly or something. Like an invisible gremlin has climbed on my shoulders and is weighing me down.

I have been spending more time at my mother's the last few weeks just simply because I do not want to feel like this.  I'm good everywhere else, but my own apartment. 

There has to be a name for that. 
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