Still feeling so disconnected, but with this quiet, growing, mild optimism that is easily trampled. I’ve confined myself to my room as of late - bought an orchid, have been listening to music alone often, dealing with severe cases of the mean reds (as Holly Golightly would put it). I know that this fall holds new things, that must be better than the ignorant and irresolute summer, but a part of me just wants to disappear completely and think of things only as they come/not at all. Well, there must be comfort somewhere. Might as well be solitude.