e-e S'one of those 'Let the world know or you'll never feel better' days. Guys, trust me. I care about you, all of you. I'm just too awkward to know ho to cheer you up. I try in my own way if I can, but I'm really good at... Fucking up and making things worse.

And I can't say anything other than 'I'm fine', irl. And I do it behind a computer screen a lot too. The only reason I'm getting a therapist? Because my sister would barge in and catch me crying, and tell my mom. I'm going to say "I'm fine", because any more and I burst into tears. I don't even like being questioned on what I do in my free time. I draw and use the internet and look up how-to-overcome-your-somethings on wikihow to put myself at ease for a little bit. Unplug me, and I'm pathetic.

So yeah. I feel like I'm... Killing my social life. People are changing and getting closer and trying new things and going through things... And I'm not a part of it. You know how I am, attention starved dog. I feel all left out, when I'm not. It's not uncommon to feel totally alone in a room. It upsets me because I'm not alone, but when I sit there for an entire class period trying to figure out one goddamn sentence, it frustrates me. I like it when people talk to me, and I don't have to initiate the conversation. I heard Braxton feels like that, and likes it when people say "Hi" to him. I'm going to say hi to him every day from now on, 'cause he's my pal.

I'm gonna... Try and get out of my room a little more. Try. I'd like to go to AC and run around sometime, or invite a friend or to over to watch anime and sleep over. Because I don't feel too hot lately.

Am I gonna be sad like this for the rest of my life? Just being generally sad and angry and disappointed at... living. This is five years of depressive spells. Five years. Zoloft didn't do shit but make it harder when I crashed again. I'd like to have the normal teenage privileges of going to the mall with my friends, sleepovers, walking several yards away from my house to the store on the corner. I'd like to see a fucking beach, for the first time in my life. And run on it. With friends. I'm not even asking to go on trips to Africa or go to stay-in camps like kids who aren't me get to do. I'd like to make awkward silences extinct, and talk freely, as if I weren't going to burst into tears or be afraid whatever I said would bite me in the ass later. Because, Ha, my dA pops up whenever you Google my name. My parents probably keep my Journals on file and are waiting for me to do something really terrible to prove that I'm as horrible as they want to believe. Because I can work my ass off over a baby that isn't mine. I can be a straight-A student, well behaved, polite. And they'd still make me watch five children everyday all summer for no pay. And they expect me to do it happily. And they believe IGNORING a major depressive disorder, anxiety disorder, self esteem issues, and all the other bullshit that comes bundled up in a fucked up little human being will make it disappear. Just up and disappear like that! These people make me sick sometimes. They love me, they say they want to help me, to other people.

But then they're screaming "OBEY!" at me, like I'm a slave instead of a human being. Holding expectations too high and not noticing a goddamn thing. I can't even think of trying to confide in my family, not anymore. Not when they treat me like a chore, a taskbot. Not when they act like they don't need me, until they need me... Not when they act like I can't go away, I'm property.

I need a hug.