Here's white here's black

It's weird how you can do something small, like drink a tea that you haven't had in awhile. And you everything that happened between the last time you drank it and now don't matter. Even if you're listening to new music, or wearing new clothes, or thinking about new people. Everything just feels insignificant in it's sameness.

I like/hate reading a book like "Twilight" where I'm sucked into this crazy world of mansions and rainy hills then I hear a car door slam outside and I'm just in my cold bed.

Tomorrow is my big Panera interview. And my Ad Lit class. I don't know why I'm so bummed out. I guess without any distractions, it's too much to think about how still everything is.