January 31st, 2002

boo

(no subject)

I hate when I read books that make me wish that my life could be like someone elses. It isn't as though I'm a generally unhappy person and that I definitely wouldn't say that I would honestly change how much life is. But seeing how different life could be makes you wonder and in that wondering it may bring a bit of sadness or regret. These aren't things that I need or have time to think about at 230am the day before I have to heinous midterms (and of course after I received an e-mail that I wish had said something different). It's ok. I'll wake up tomorrow, fine, just a bit tired from my thought induced insomnia. Goodnight.