So I went to this hot spring resort a few days ago and I just got back this morning, which is why I haven’t written anything. Honestly though, going to a resort is NOT as relaxing or nice or luxurious as it sounds. And there was NOTHING to do there. I would have fallen into a boredom-induced coma had it not been for the company of my faithful phone (which is dying, because its battery is running out at alarming rates, but that’s just the problem with iPhones).
Plus I didn’t sleep well there. I had horrible dreams. I’ve been having them for a long while now, and the worst dream I had was one in which there were these sick children with rotting skin. It was a scene from a freaking horror movie.
Anyway, the resort place didn’t have many visitors at all, and funnily enough, the “European-style villas” just looked like glorified American suburbian houses. The whole place looked like a glorified American suburb, really. So empty. Eerily empty. And quiet. Except for the rumble, and the occasional shrill sound of a far-off train hurtling by on the tracks.
And the mosquitoes there were ferocious.
But anyway, it rained all over the place while we were away, and it’s raining now. It’s depressing. Rain just feels like people crying, crying all over everything, and the grayness in the skies just sort of seeps into the world until nothing is bright or clear anymore. I’ve never liked the rain except when it’s summer rain, the sort of rain that appears briefly on the sunniest days and just brings a pleasant mist to the air.
I have gotten into the habit of naming my entries with two things, separated by a slash. It’s only because I never just talk about one thing and I always have to talk about several different, completely unrelated things, so I thought I should put both in the title.
Anyhoo. I’m really putting an effort into my writing, and I’ve found that I’m actually becoming more and more productive. I don’t like my writing, though–I don’t like the way I sound, the way I describe things. I envy those fanfiction writers I love, that can pull me in with a single sentence and make my heart expand with happiness, because their writing is that good. Man, I’m jealous. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a writer. Maybe I’m just destined not to write in a really interesting manner. That would be depressing as fuck (sorry, swearing is bad, I know), but maybe I should really just stop writing because I’m bad at it anyway, and I’m wasting time and not working hard on chemistry and social skills.
Have a good Wednesday/Thursday, and stay chill.