I am angry because I am tired of being suprised. Tired of the noises next to me and the vents, the tiny kitchen, the bathroom renovation remarks, my mother and father rasping at one another up and down the stairs, I'm tired of loving my boyfriend in a precarious position and sitting here watching it recede from me, the cigarettes becoming something entirely different to me now. I'm tired of being this boat, that is, a house boat with dirty amenities and a small shower water is running out of. I'm tired of my co-working and how I'm always thinking about money now, how I wish I had more money or more friends. That way I could live somewhere. I wish I could read a book but I just can't. I want to feel calm but it's always rising up and itching in my mouth. There's coughnig intermittedly next to me and it's driving me mad.