I hate my life.

I mean why do I even try anymore? Why do I try to be happy? Every single fucking time I get close to being happy, it blows up in my face. Julien isn’t going to be back until probably Christmas, an by that time, I will be in Florida. I’m not going to be able to see him until after New Years. I had just gotten to a point where I wasnt being bitchy, and he was replying to my e-mails again, and there were less than 4 weeks until he comes home. Well add 2 and a half weeks to that and see how happy I am. I hate my life. I really don’t see the point in trying anymore, cause then maybe he’ll just decide to move to Prague and never see me again.