"Bring out your dead!"

1. I'm not dead. Low, but not dead. Maybe it's darkness; whenever it gets dark early, I get moodier. And it's been getting dark around 3 PM this year (which is obscene). Very low. It's annoying.
2. The husband has been up for over 24 hours now, poor bastard. He's staggering around quite willfully.
3. I don't know what to write about anymore. I keep asking myself "Would anyone give a shit about what I want to write except me?" and the answer is always no, so I write pages and pages in my journal and feel better. I feel like a mixture of not wanting to be seen, and wanting to be heard, and all I ever get is the opposite of both. I know, here's your order of cheese and whine, but this journal operates on the belief that nobody ever reads this, so I can just shout "BOOBIES" every now and then, and nobody would know. So if you're reading this, pretend you didn't read this.