September 28, 2002
forget the sun and rescue me
It's difficult to write when you feel nothing.. when all the perfect little acts and all the wonderful long nights and all the horrible phone calls and childish worries affect you as much as the soft rustling of a tiny summer breeze. When you know you're drowning, drowning in a stagnant pool called apathy but you don't care enough to swim..
I'd forgotten (and will no doubt forget again) that there really is something worse than depression..
And I'm sitting at home and eating too much and I bet I've gained a pound or three..
And my size three skirts will fit a little tight the next time I put them on and I know I'll hate myself for it.
Yes, and I'm sorry I haven't written in a day or two but really, what was there to say?
5:07 p.m.