Twelve Thirteen.

I'm sitting in the Union with Yasmin and Nathan.
I'm not really thinking or feeling or doing anything.
Instead my fingers are just feeling their way around the keyboard as I watch the words splay out onto the screen.

This week should be interesting. I keep considering more and more whether I should just go back to Dallas without telling my parents. The bus ticket for the Texas Express is 35 dollars and the Greyhound is around 65(?) round trip. Eh. That's a lot of money. I'm probably better off telling them, but they'll only let me take the Texas Express, which only leaves at 4 on Friday, which is conflicting for me or let me take the Greyhound if someone goes with me. Aye-yi-yi, indeed.

I can only focus on this weekend. Otherwise, everything becomes too overwhelming to handle. I don't know what's overwhelming me, but I can feel it. Perhaps I should have just gone to sleep.