It annoys me that I no longer can sit down and read a good book, because I'm always restless. Aside of music, books used to be my other method for escaping the reality. When life was hard I found comfort disappearing in a world so distant from the one I live in. A world where I rode on dragons, or fell in love, maybe both.

It was hard for me to understand people who thought books were boring, because for me who got so lost in them, books were fucking amazing. They must have a serious lack of imagination I thought.

But now when I pick up a book, I read barely two pages before I throw it aside. It's fucking crippling, because I can't do shit. Not only can't I read books, but I can't do my assignments either. Four thousand words until friday about something I could not care less about.

If only I could write about myself.