This is revenge.

A cold balcony at the Quality Inn.

I recently realized that there are several things I will never experience in life. For example I will never give birth. I will never know what it feels like to murder someone. I will never know the rush of ecstasy that comes from pushing a syringe into my vein and injecting heroine into it. I will never know what it feels like to sleep in outer space, being completely weightless. I know I won't experience some of these things due to conscious choices I make but the fact remains that I will be deprived (and in some instances: deprive myself) of certain experiences. I just thought it was interesting.

Turn Left at the Painted Indian Face

I'm currently sitting, alone, at a table in a hotel room checking my email and listening to a large group of girls celebrate their friends' last night of virginity and...singleness. In addition to the fact that it's freezing cold in this room, despite the heater that's raging in a hopeless attempt to warm these quarters, I'm typing with cut fingers that refuse to heal. I've hardly slept in the past few days, though I shouldn't complain seeing as Michelle slept for only an hour last night.
I have little reason to write tonight. I suppose I simply feel the need to update anyone who might find their way onto this site.
There's an inevitable longing for summer that comes to those who choose to live in places with extremely harsh and dreary winters. Every winter, without fail, I get sick of the ugly scenery, the frigid temperatures, the unforgiving lack of sunlight, the depression of winter. Luckily I work a job that requires a minimal amount of thought, so I have plenty of time to daydream about warmer weather and all it entails. Only a couple more months of this hell before we've earned another few months of heaven.