Just not that into me.

I've developed a complex. Do you ever just feel like everyone knows something you don't? Emails aren't returned. Communication becomes minimal, at best. Like everyone is staring with pity.

And I care about these people. The ones that don't respond to messages. The ones who continuously feed the monster of doubt.

Or maybe I'm just moody today. It's one of those days that's deserving of a blanket, three pillows and the dark. I don't do ice cream, so I won't need any of that. Unless it's a hot fudge sundae from McDonald's. And even then I just want the hot fudge, so it's not worth it.

If this is the first day of late twenties, I'll take 25 back, please. Better yet, 23. That felt like a good age.

Thankfully, I discovered this website, which at least has made the last seven or eight minutes worth it, but otherwise I'm chalking today up to a case of the Mondays that should've occurred yesterday, but was put on hold for my birthday.

My birthday, which signifies the end of anything exciting this time of year. Here is what I have to look forward to until the temperatures inch above 62: nothing. Grey skies. Snow. Treadmills. Work. Lather, rinse. Repeat.

If that doesn't make me want to pack a suitcase and book a one-way ticket to Anywhere Else, I don't know what does.

And I'm hungry. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Unfortunately, it's the only side I have to wake up on.