Unclear why I’m awake at 4AM. On tumblr. Getting depressed as fuck by everything that I am reading. I am in my parents’ house, in my childhood bedroom, wrapped in a warm blanket. Clearly I should pull the other covers over my head to create a tent so that I can write in my journal and read Julie of the Wolves while in the comforting solitude of my own personal cocoon. That is, after all, how I survived ages 9-18.