I feel like I'm a zombie.

Just kind of going through motions and all.  It is almost surreal, actually.  It's as though I barely exist and I'm just kind of a shell, if that makes sense.  I don't know if it does or not.

Even reading a book that is enjoyable and fiction and all seems like a daunting task that I just do not want to deal with at all.

It's funny; I feel as though I have a lot of shit I want to say, but I can't really put them into words or anything like that.  And most of the things on my mind are about emails and the ex and stupid shit that I wish I could purge my memory of because it just hurts too fucking much anymore.

I can't even look through my fucking pictures from London without getting sad because I suck that much.

Meh, I've just been down since I came back from the concert.  It's like a post-Streetlight low and everything, which...makes sense I guess.  To go from a place where I felt like I belonged and felt like I mattered - for some reason - in some way and that things really aren't as bad as they seem...and then return to my mundane reality...I don't know.  It just kind of sucks.

I think that is partially why people keep telling me that I need to get out of Binghamton for a while.