Let's just say that I got very real in therapy today.

I have to get up in about four and a half hours. I've been up past 4 AM every night this week.

When I turn 23 in a little while, I have to get my own health insurance. It's all very confusing and expensive, and at this point I would rather just bury myself in the backyard and not worry about these things called "life," "the real world," "career," "capitalism," and "annual out-of-pocket maximum."

It will take forever to write the book, and it won't even matter because no one will publish it. So it seems like a colossal waste of time.