Well, I haven't been the most faithful to this. I mean, I've had this for I don't even know how long, and in it there are absolutely no entries. Not one. I've never done that-- I should be on this, keeping up with it. How is this any different than the logs I wrote during Afghanistan? What is it about this therapist that, despite being an authority figure, makes me break habits I've held for a decade?
No, she doesn't need to see that. She'd love it, it'd fit with her diagnosis of me, but no. She doesn't need to see that.
Now that I'm at this boarding house, I'm beginning to lose track of time even easier. So used to the sun coming up and actually shining in the morning. Here, I'm lucky if a sliver of sunlight'll eek through the clouds and grace an inch of my window. It's so dark here. And cold.
It's like perpetual nighttime in the desert.
Only here it reeks of the city.
End.