I am at the branch of the New York Public Library by my apartment, attempting to do work. Unfortunately, I left my cigarettes at home and I refuse to go to the store and shell out $8.fucking.50 for a whole new pack, so right now it is a question of how much longer I can continue to be effective on a deficiency of nicotine.
It's an experiment. I'm going to aim for two more hours before I accidentally gnaw through my tongue. If I were working on something other than $chool, I think I'd be okay. But it's been so rough lately...wah wah wah. This is why I cannot be in therapy! Once I start thinking about problems and whining about them, I cannot stop. It's like someone has given me license to be a whiny little bitch.