Everything I own in covered in ash.

My clothes, my desk, my floor. I am sick with the flu. I will probably have the flu for weeks. I'll be lying in bed instead of writing papers and working on projects, and there is no doubt that I'll have a cigarette in my hand.

When I woke up Friday and realized that I had the flu the passing thought that this would cut down on my smoking briefly passed through my mind. It has. To a degree. But right after that thought, my next one was "I have Anthrax." That is unlikely as the former thought. They are each a fantasy that I will midly entertain for a while, until each one is proved false.

Its hard to stop doing something that you do in times of stress. Its even harder when the stress levels are elavated. I am finally realizing one of my bestfriends is using me just like she uses everyone else. I am finally realizing there is nothing I can do to help my boyfriend. You can't change people. And I don't want them to change... I just want... To make a difference.

So, I sit there and smoke and worry. I wish someone would tell me what to do. That way if I ruin my life there will be someone to blame other than myself.

The real world sucks. And I'm not even in the real world yet.