Entry from the 26th – On The Train

Is there a story to tell? For so long E.L. was part of my life. It just occurred to me that I brought him up that one time when I was listening to some of the music he recommended to me. And I brought it up to M.T. and he said it didn’t seem like something I would listen to, which is really dead on.

Oh, I’m feeling rather reminiscent. It’s this novel. Not good, really. Not at all. And I’m just thinking way too much.

I feel strangely adultish with this purse and this attire and the way I’m sitting. Everything about it yells ‘grown person’ … I hate to use the word woman. There’s something about the connotations/expections of the word that keep me from seeing myself as one. My lips are trembling, and tears are forming in my eyes. Why does this happen to me always and only in public? There’s a sadder quality about being out and about than in the comforts of your home that makes those tears just so much more willing to fall.

It seems as though he’s trying to tell me he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore and I’m just not getting it. And I don’t know if I’m being paranoid or if it’s the truth. And I’m starting to dislike who I become when I’m with him and usually that’s the only reason I “like” anyone: because of who I become when I’m with them. A selfish reason, yes, but one nonetheless.

There is some sadness too deep to express even in words. I wish I showed my sadness through my eyes, and the whole world knew there is something underneath worth exploring. I want to change. I want to be someone else. A less helpless-looking version of myself.

I can’t believe my aunts asked me if I’m still taking my medication. My ‘behavior’ was pretty perfect this entire weekend and they thought I’m just “getting better” because of the pills. But I told them I haven’t been taking them for months, which is entirely true.

Right now I feel like walking in front of a moving bus, just to die. Why does my depression get this bad? What’s bothering me? Thoughts come a mile a minute and it makes sense for me to be depressed, but then the moment you ask me, I just don’t know. I don’t know at all.

I feel so lost.

1. trying to suggest things we can do so we can talk again. Fail.

2. people see me as some super serious super-goody-two shoes. mark. jonathan. that’s not who I am. I can be serious, but I can also be really silly and fun. It hurts to think people just don’t know me.

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