I'm not entirely convinced that I'm real anymore.

Or maybe I just don't want to accept what I've become.

Loneliness is such a weird thing with me. You'd think, being an only child and all, that I'd be used to it now, even that I enjoy it. And there are a lot of times that I want nothing more than to be sequestered in my room with nothing but a laptop and a television. But sometimes, like right now, it just hits me so hard and so deep, that there's ( Read more... )

Things are good, nothing much for me to say ( Read more... )

 Me, I'm not.

 What even am I?

Will I ever know?

A little identity, please...

 I am the ultimate sort of nonsense.

 Ways I am an adult ( Read more... )

This is scary - heading toward what ideally is an end, but also a beginning. Really really hoping there's a bit of something to carry over, though. You know, to make it worthwhile. Parts of this I won't miss, but there's always a reluctance when something major might end up different because of it.

I really can't tell anymore - am I getting MORE out of my head every day, or am I at a plateau, and I'm only realizing how asinine I can be? I'd say the latter, but I feel like hell most of the time.

Sometimes e-mail actually gives me a social anxiety, when I'm asking something of someone, or some sort of conflict is being discussed, and I ignore for days, only opening long enough to delete and not deal, or waiting until I'm just drunk enough to read and move on.

Usually it's nothing.