I keep on trying to get up the nerve to talk to this guy in my writing class, but I can't seem to do it. He's sort of funny, always wears these button up shirts, but in a preppie way, like with khakis. He dresses exactly the same every day, and I like him. I don't know. And I've been writing this essay for this class for like a month now, revising and revising, and I got the first draft back yesterday and I already would get an A/A- if it was the final, so I'm doing really well. I've worked really hard and put a lot of personal shit into it. It's about gay heroin addicted youth in San Francisco, and what it means to be gay nowadays. I put a lot about Todd in it. I slept with Todd. He's dead now. He was basically dead then, only he was fucking hot. It's sad. I'm fairly stoic about though.

I don't know where to go.

I'm a bit lost at the moment.