tired.

I wish I could be there for her. I'm too forgetful to be a good friend. I hope she's ok. Even though I'm fairly sure she's not.

I hate pretending, and not saying what I mean, and I hate it when you do it, too. Please, please, be genuine with me, tell me what you're thinking. I want to know so much. I promise that I'll try to understand.

I don't know if I'm going to make it past this. I don't think I really want to just stop trying. What kind of a life is that? It's not any better than struggling your whole life, even if you don't accomplish anything. Because if you struggle, at least you're trying.

Why can't I just do what's right? Do I really need that much help from others to do what I need to do? Am I even capable of pulling out of this by myself? And somehow, I can't help feeling alone. I think it's my own fault. Everything I say I like best - darkness, rain, closed spaces, music, dreaming - aren't meant for sharing. Do I push people away? Or do I just avoid being close to them? Would it be possible to belong if I just stopped pushing others away?

I always thought I loved people, couldn't stand to be alone, wanted to belong more than anything. But, in reality, I think I'd rather be alone. And I'd rather be different. Maybe someday I'll learn how to open up to others. Until then, I suppose I'll be lonely. At least I'll know who I am, even if others don't. I wonder - is it really worth it?