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Part of me wants to walk out into the desert and disappear.

Part of me believes that if I stay right where I am and keep doing what I’ve been doing, I’ll wind up someplace incredible.

I am afraid to wake up tomorrow. I am afraid of a day that is mine to determine. I am almost certain I won’t make anything of it.

I cried pretty hard for pretty long tonight. I mention it only because it tends to make me so much more tired. Yet I’m fighting to keep my eyes open as it’s nearing 12:30. I am stretching this night out in order to put off the morning.

I am afraid to be left alone with me. Afraid that I will disappoint. That I will fail. That I won’t do anything important.

Saturday actually scares me. It’s the silliest thing, and it’s been true for a very long time.