Tanja sits in her sofa and scribbles on a small notepad, cause it was the only thing she found at home right now.

So I read this about journal. Thought I try it out.
Stupid.
I'm taling to my self and it's stupid.

(*circles scribbles here*)

Still, I didn't put the pen away really.
Why I'm still writing? Talking?
Maybe cause I don't really have somebody to talk to.
Nobody would listen really I think.
Maybe Val, yeah, but he haves his own life.
Just like all the others.

Just like I should have as well.

But you are a drifter Tanja.
Drifter.
Maybe. Right now I don't know where to turn.

Nothing seems to be the right direction.

Ah, fuck this.
Shit is dragging me down.

She tosses the notepad and pen away into a corner and gets out to go drinking.