I have to get a haircut because the ends of my locks are starting to look and feel like straw. It looks too long for my head but I know once I cut it I’ll hate the length.

Every time November rolls around I start feeling like I could fall asleep at any moment. My friendships become mush, my faith becomes strained, and my patience wears thinner than it already is.

I got asked this weekend if Im an impatient person. The answer was immediately yes. I am. Then he asked me if I understood that patience was a virtue, and that we aren’t born with virtues- they come over time. I said, “it’s the ‘over time’ part I have an issue with.”

I can’t study for my classes and my head always has a dull throb. I feel constantly hungry and dehydrated at the same time, and the only food I manage to eat relieves neither of these symptoms. The salted caramel Milky Way becomes my favorite source of nutrients.

Maybe I should take a hot bath. Someone told me that baths simulate the feeling of being touched and can help fight off touch starvation and loneliness. But the dorm tub seems a little nasty. I’m sure I will take one anyways, and dump in my Lush body wash to make pathetic honey scented bubbles.

I texted my ex boyfriend and we chatted for a bit. He is dating a girl whom I recently met. She was so nice to me, even though she knows I’ve ruined her boyfriend permanently. It’s nice to check in on him and see if he is still obsessing over our romance. He is, but it isn’t as satisfying right now because I want to banish him from all thought. I don’t want to think of him ever again.

I have leftover Chipotle to heat up for dinner tonight. I’m looking forward to the taste, but I also feel like I’ll still be hungry afterwards and my only line of defense will be Cheetos. I’ll eat them, but I won’t feel satisfied. I feel like that’s a theme in my life.

My best friend from home went to a psychiatrist. Sometimes I hate mental health. How are you this fucked up? Why does it feel like a competition? I know you think I am less valid because I don’t have a diagnosis. Or this is literally just the season in which I begin harboring resentment for my friends. There are no words to describe in a polite way how I feel about the matter, so I just ask her instead.

Today my english professor asked if women perpetuate rape culture and promote sexual objectification of themselves. I didn’t have any words. Of course, the silence was filled with male voices, claiming they didn’t think this was the purpose, and that fashion could be provocative and empowering.

I’m reading the Godfather and I love it. I want to be involved with someone so passionate and intense like the characters from the page. Minus all of the murders and crime. I want to be enchanted, and those characters provide my perfect escape.

I have a psych test tomorrow that I am putting off by typing all of this nonsense onto a page. Psych is fine, I’m just not particularly interested. The idea that people can be so easily categorized and treated makes me uncomfortable at times. Like I was exposed to the reasoning before I ever knew the reality, and now I understand too much about the results to ever come to a conclusion about myself.

It’s all of little consequence.

I get embarrassed when people ask me my major. Yes, I’m a philosophy and American studies major. Yes, I want to go to law school. Then I see them look at me and doubt my abilities. I’m insecure that no one believes I can ever be a lawyer. I don’t understand what I did wrong that makes no one take me seriously. I may come off as stupid, I don’t know, but it makes me feel like people actually believe that I am stupid.

But I refuse to defend myself. I know I can do it. I don’t need their hate or their support. This success is imminent to my future.

This is November for me.

College student, woman, master of sarcasm, occasional inhabitant of this brain. Nebraska. Washington.