I ought to work harder to remember that just because you're good at something doesn't mean you enjoy it. if I can remember that it may keep me out of trouble. I have morbid interests that are better not indulged, and I am poor at stopping myself. what to do, what to do. no one I speak to in the world knows that I'm here, and I don't think it's healthy that I stay. the past eight days have been this mess of inscrutable unhappiness and feeling that I just don't know how to keep myself out of trouble.