Sanctuary is Home.

I've been irritable and tense. Not stressed, exactly, but maybe I've been stretched too thin. Or maybe I've been so accustomed to be pressured into finishing my work on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday nights that I have not been able to recover. Too many classes, too undisciplined in time management.

But it's not stress, in those other days.

Smaller and smaller things are getting on my nerves. My anger grows and grows each day. My EQ is slipping. Falling. Crashing.

Before, I ranted and raved about my woeful life, not meaning it to catch other's attention as much as wanting me to focus on myself. I don't understand why I did it anymore. I was angry. I wrote. It made me feel better. Maybe it distracted me. Let me reexamine myself. Though, I have begun to dislike myself for it. Perhaps that's not exactly accurate either. I have stopped feeling like typing an account of these things. Or anything else at all.

...So maybe I still understand why I wrote.
So maybe I am still doing the same thing.

But I have been doing more thinking than writing and spent more time being angry then being contemplative...and my outlet for everything has been going the wrong direction.

I don't like what I'm changing to.

I think I am just surviving now. Overloading myself so that this...school thing is getting less enjoyable. It's just like eating a too big piece of meat.

Home is sanctuary now. It is rest it is relaxation it is happiness it is spoilage it is care it is home.

Oh, and I am also ashamed of everything.