Connor stared at his open journal, unsure of what to write. He'd never kept a journal before (he found the concept a little silly after all), and he'd never had to document his feelings in any way shape or form. To ask Connor to pour out his feelings was like asking a rock to explode into a spring of water. He kept his feelings bottled up in a tight cork-screwed jar, keen on not letting them out.

So he left the journal in drawer and focused his mind on other tasks, tasks that didn't drain him mentally. Like finding a new roomate.

His therapist had subtly mentioned that living in an apartment alone wasn't such a good idea. He convinced himself that he needed to do it because the rent was becoming a bit of a pain. He only worked a single job. Either he took a second job (definitely out of the question, way too much work) or he found a roomate.

And ... maybe the comment the therapist had made dug under his skin a bit. Sometimes it was a little lonely. Even if he had his darling fish (and don't be mistaken, Connor loved his darling fish), sometimes it got a little boring. Having a big empty room and a big empty bed with no one to talk to was somewhat dull. It was starting to feel like he did the same thing every day without a single lapse in monotony. Was that what they called depression?

As he was typing up his request for craiglist, he glanced over to the journal. How were you supposed to write how you feel when you didn't feel anything at all. Connor shook his head. That stupid journal didn't matter right now. Right now he needed to focus on traits he was looking for in a roomate.

The first thing that came to mind was "must be friendly to fish," but that wasn't really the kind of thing you were supposed to put on a request, was it? Neat and tidy- that way Connor didn't have to do any of the cleaning. Enjoy cooking- might as well write some positive traits he had (that way someone would actually WANT to be his roomate). Though why anyone would want to be his roomate he didn't know. He couldn't even hold on to a girl that was supposed to be his best friend.

No, nope. Not going down that path of thinking. What other things did people look for in roomates? Oh right- he needed to put the amenities. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, one kitchen, one living room ... sort of a living room. It was more like an aquarium, honestly. Was that enough to be considered a living space?

Connor sighed, typing up the rest of the document with a morose attitude. Eventually it was posted, sufficient enough.

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I feel nothing and this is dumb. Why did I even open this journal.