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Sometimes I wish I was dead. Actually, I wish I was dead pretty much all the time. Do I really have any right to feel that way? I mean, I get what I want, I'm given money when I want it, and I am thankful for it. But, so many times I think I would rather be dead. It just gets to the point where I hate living here. Or living period. So many times that I've stared intently at a knife with every thought of picking it up to do what I used to do. In the end, thankfully, my common sense gets the better of me and I don't. How long will that hold up? How long will my common sense be able to hold the rest of me back? Not long, I don't think. Not long. I guess I just can't handle anything anymore. Everything ruins my nerves. I'm surprised my hair isn't falling out. That girl, Ilie or whatever, her hair fell out in patches because of stress, and she just had to shave it it all off.

There's no one for me to talk to. I guess I could talk to my friends, but they're not the same. They're just.. friends. I love them all, but I wouldn't feel right dropping all of my problems into their laps. So, I can't really turn to them. Maybe I should go and talk to the counseler, see if she can reccomend any free places that I can go to and just talk, or get help, or something. Just anything to keep my mind occupied and away from this house? But, how can I get better if everything around me stays the same? I can't change if no one else is willing to change with me. Maybe I just need to get out of here, get in the car and drive. Go as far away as possible. And just be out on my own. That would be great, if I had any money, or any way to support myself. Yeah, like that would ever work.