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Gloomy Monday

This wasted heart of mine....

Love and relationships thrown in my face by the universe while I pine away for the impossible.. improbable.. impractical. No one notices me, no one wants me, hell, no one even wants me around.

After awhile, they all forget I exist.

I'm lonely today, and sad. I'm losing my only real work friend soon. No one else even likes me, not really. But that's not surprising. This happens wherever i go, with everyone i meet. I'm unlikable.

All the dreams I've ever had.. so rarely do they come true. I graduated from Michigan, I lived in London for two months, and... that is just about it. I'm tired of losing. I'm tired of hurting.

I'm tired of being so fucking rejected.

It hurts.

Every. Single. Day.

Doesn't matter what I do, or what I don't do. I'm.... nothing.

I wish I had died in that accident.

I wish Chris of all people would stop harassing me and leave me alone.

The universe is so god damn cruel to me. I don't have an ally anywhere. Probably not even in death.

What's the fucking point anymore, I swear. Nothing ever matters. No one's opinion of me will change for the better.

and you don't.. see.. me..


My fucking dreams,man.

I was okay. I was moving on. I'd accepted that I'll never get what i want.. I'll never get to feel those arms again or taste his kiss.

And I've been depressed as hell about it for weeks.

Yesterday was rough. The same story that's been told since i was 4 years old. I thought i had friends, i thought people liked me, and then I'm left out and not invited to things. It's not major, but it's enough to really bother me. I crumpled into tears many, many times yesterday.

Then it turns around after a few drinks, and i end up having a nice night with Kelly, Joey, and Tracie. A very good night.

Then... then, my scumbag brain goes and dreams up not one but TWO dreams about him last night. One, i was back in therapy, and he was following me around, he had kept some stuff i guess i left or gave to them (it was odd) and then an older woman said she could tell we were in love. The way we both looked at eachother, she said. Which is not at all far off from what more than one older person at PT has said to me, or him, back when i went. The looks they gave us, that knowing old person stare and smile.

The other one, i was leaving somewhere and we just found eachother, it's hard to explain, but he was looking for me and i was thrilled to be found.

He looked at my snaps the other day. That's all. Innocent, innocuous, nothing. And my starved heart soaked it up faster than i knew what was happening.

I am literally a psychopath, right? I'm an obsessed former patient, former friend? I don't know. I wanted things to be different more than anything.

Maybe my scumbag brain is telling me i haven't really given up. Or the universe is telling me that i shouldn't give up. I dont know.

More than likely, it's nothing, just another kick in the gut from the forces that be.

Siiiigghhh fuck. This is hell.

On the precipice..

I've had a respite from my depression the past few days. I'm not sure if it was crashing like I did early last week helped deplete things so much that I've just been numb, or if it's because I've been working so hard I haven't had time to stop and think.

I've kept myself working, nose to the ground, pushing and pushing for years, and years.. Whether it's all those part-time jobs, school, or full-time work with part-time jobs on top.

Depression and anxiety are what drove me from the Joe Louis. I couldn't handle the people anymore, I couldn't fake it anymore, I couldn't... It was too much. That and of course what happened with TZ and Ciara and Andrea just stabbing me right in the back, that was all I had left. The place that I was once so excited to go to turned into my nightmare. Nothing gave me pleasure anymore, not really. The team sucked, the fans were dumb, then my co-workers, I don't know. Depression fueled all of it. I thought they wanted me to leave. I wasn't living up to my end of the bargain anymore. I outgrew it, perhaps. But my illness made it that much worse - heightened emotions, rejection stung harder than it should have... It just... It's wild to me that I spent 10 years of my life there and right now it feels like a distant, far-away memory. Almost as if it never happened to me at all.

And now, I'm facing that same feeling with Yack. At some point soon I will leave that place and never return. And it's hard, because part of me really does love it. I enjoy getting it ready and keeping it going - I just couldn't, or can't, work the window anymore, not really. I mean, I definitely can, but I don't want to. Not really. Part of me does because it's comfortable - the extra money is nice, little as it is, and I enjoy being in charge and making the decisions. Now I'm preparing to hand off the reigns, five years later, after I've perfected it the best I can. It's time. Still makes me sad that I won't see some of those people again..

And maybe it's all for naught; maybe this all falls through and I'll be back in charge all season. I'd almost welcome it. I wouldn't mind doing the back-house stuff and taking a shift here and there. I really wouldn't. But as my career coach hammered into my brain last year, I have to get out of there. I am meant for something else.

I am meant for so much more.

I should be back in school for something - anything - right now. I should spend more time reading books, instead of browsing Twitter or watching Netflix. It would certainly help curb my drinking. I need to spend more time moving around and losing some of this weight, as well. But just making it through the day anymore is difficult. Tremendously so.

I need to recap the last few days, because I have been so busy, it's unreal.

On Friday, my parents left at 7am and I got up, got ready, packed a lunch, made a breakfast, and went to work. Motivation was low -- I had a rough day Thursday, found something MAJOR that I messed up at work, had to stay late to make up for things.. so on Friday, I just wanted to get through the day. I wanted to leave right at 4p so I could get on with my weekend. Work was great until Kelli decided to come in at 3:45p and dump a fuck load of work in my bins, and then leave. I had to cover phones at 4p. I didn't end up leaving until 4:35. There was an accident, a major one, on Southfield South so I found a GFS closer to work and went there. Then I went to a Target in Southfield to try and find a Lions shirt and some stuff for Yack that I needed. Then I drove south, through traffic, and went to the hill in Allen Park. I went to Bath and Body Works, Michaels, Old Navy, and that Target. I was successful as hell. Then, I had to go to Yack. I stopped at 7-11 to get a Baffo's and some tallboys to help the night. I got to Yack after 9p. I had to haul everything in, put all of the stock away, finish cleaning, make the slushies (and bleach that machine), get all the counter items ready, type up a menu, print and laminate it, and then put them up. I reprogrammed the register. I checked the money. I was busy as hell. I got home at about 1:20am, pulled in the garbage can, finally ate something (a few hunks of chicken and three slices of cheese). Then, I took a full shower, and went to sleep, legs and feet aching and deliriously tired.

I woke up fairly early on Saturday. I had a list of things to accomplish. I was up at 9:30a, I got ready and left to get my oil changed, which luckily went very quick. I stopped at Dunkin Donuts, who were out of the munckins I wanted (and nearly everything), I stopped at the credit union to deposit Joey's check and withdraw cash for the Lions game.. Only they didn't give me the cash, only did the deposit, and i didn't realize that until I already left. I had forgotten my phone at home during all this, so I stopped at home, wolfed down my donut, grabbed my phone, and went on my way. I went to JCPenney to buy shampoo & conditioner, then to Target in Taylor to return the Lions hoodie I bought that cost too much (thats 3 Targets in about 15 hours), then Joanne Fabrics, Bed Bath & Beyond, and the Christmas Tree Store looking for the blue oil for mom's lamp. No luck at all. Then I went and got my car washed, I stopped at the Michaels on Eureka, I stopped at that 7-11 to withdraw cash from one of the in-network ATMs, then I had to go to Meijer to buy food and beer. My feet hurt so bad. Then I finally got to go home, I made mac n cheese and watched the Michigan game with my feet propped up. Then I decided to try and get my Halloween shit out, and ended up doing everything but that... I put all my summer candles away, packed them up between spring and then summer, I took all my shoes out of my two brown organizers and put them into one with hard sides, I reorganized my lotions into a bin instead of a broken box and shifted out the summer scents for fall ones, I got the Halloween stuff out of the cubby and put away the summer & patriotic stuff in there, I shaved, I started to dust, then I took a shower because Joey was going to come over. Just before my shower I was bringing down some trash from my room and I set the bag down, and an empty candle fell out and rolled down my stairs, smashing into a million pieces on the carpet below. I had to vacuum that up carefully... It was bad. So then I just vacuumed the entire first floor when I was out of the shower. Joey and I didn't eat much but we drank a lot of bud light, played a lot of Zelda, and I was back in bed by midnight, one thousand percent exhausted. My feet killing me. My hands, especially, have been aching since I was at Yack last week.

So I got up early on Sunday because Uncle Jim and I went to the Lions game. We had a nice time. He made me drive, we got there WAY too early, I had beers and hot dogs for breakfast, had some laughs, we saw the pre-game show, and the game ended up being good. We had another fourth quarter come-back win! Woop! We got a free bobble head and magnet schedule at the game. So cool. Then we went to dinner at the Oak Cafe, and went home. It was a long day! And thank god we left the Oak when we did because as soon as I was home alone again it was like a switch went off and I. was. hammered. I literally went into bed and passed out quick, at like 7pm. I got back up around 10:30p all out of sorts just feeling dehydrated and dry as a bone, it was bad. I decided then that I wasn't going to work the next day, I wanted to finish doing what I set out to do at the beginning of the weekend: put up my Halloween, and finish cleaning the house for mom. So I took a mental health day, a Maria is super exhausted day.

I got up with my alarm anyway to text my bosses and Amanda and Maria that I wasn't coming in. Then I fell back asleep for a little while. Much needed sleep. I got up and had coffee and breakfast, watched some dumb shows, then I dusted the first floor, cleaned the bathroom, cleaned the kitchen, and began getting out all my Halloween stuff. I dusted the basement, I vacuumed the basement, I cleaned up a bunch of crap, and I put up my Halloween stuff down there. Then I took a break to eat, and as I threw in a load of laundry to get going while I ate, my parents came home, about two hours before I was expecting them. From the moment they came home my stomach has been killing me. I don't know if the tuna I hate was bad, or if the pop I drank really irritated my stomach, but I haven't felt right since that. I feel sick. Sick to my stomach. I've had mentally induced stomach pain before, so maybe this is that again.. Or maybe the tuna was bad, I'm not sure. After that I was slow to finish cleaning, but I did. I dusted my entire room and put out all of my Halloween stuff up here. It was a LOT of work. Then I watched some Netflix and here I am, typing mindlessly.

The thought of going to work tomorrow makes my stomach hurt worse. I just buried myself in a big hole today. Mondays are always bad, and I left a TON of work on Friday. I just... man, don't want to deal with it. I am so over work.

I'm so over everything, to be honest.

One thing has become clear: I need to live on my own. I need to so much. It's dangerous for me, but I need that freedom. I need to be able to come and go when I please without answering to anyone. I need privacy. I need to be alone.

Chris has been relentless this entire weekend. He's called me probably 12 times today alone. Fucking irritating. I haven't spoken to him in months but all of a sudden the last few weeks he is being an immature moron. GET THE HINT. If I wanted to talk to you, I would be. Harassing me is making it worse. I am literally one nasty text/voicemail/snapchat from blocking his number everywhere. I can't deal with this. I don't want to deal with this. I don't care that he still thinks he loves me, he doesn't fucking love me, he doesn't even understand what that means. He's clingy and he doesn't get over things, he dwells on the past and lives there. It's not real. Even if it is real, I don't care. I just don't care. I want to be left alone. He belongs in my past, not my present. I don't want him in my present. I don't want him in my future. I want him to fade into my memory. I want him to fade like my memories of the Joe Louis has, so that they can feel like they never happened to begin with. I have nothing at all left for him. Nothing at all. I wish him the best. I want him to move on. I want him to leave. me. alone. I'm being stalked. Literally stalked. Harassed. This is so stupid.

It kills me, mentally. It's so unhealthy.

I don't quite know how to fix any of this misery. I don't know how to make myself feel things again. I don't know how to reignite my passion... for anything, anything at all. It's just gone.


Back to real life tomorrow. I get to go out to dinner with Kelly and hear her gush about her newfound happiness, and I am happy for her, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more than a little jealous. I had dreams of happiness not so long ago. Mine never came true, and probably never will. Hers are, and I'm glad for her. I'm just tired. Dead inside. Numb. It's hard. Hard to be left behind in all this happiness. People move on, things get better for them, or at least different. I just drift. Down the same river. Down the same path. Sometimes the waters are choppy, sometimes they are smooth as glass. But I'm always alone, drifting toward my death.

I like to say that I'm meant for great things but I honestly don't believe I was meant for anything at all. I don't think I'm supposed to be here, alive. I was a mistake, an accident. Still lingering on this plane where I've never been wanted, nor needed. I'll never be saved. No one even remembers that I'm here.

I feel like I'm standing on the precipice of a major fall. I feel like I'm about to drop off of the edge. I'm about to fall back down to nothingness again. Lose my job probably, it's all I have. Go back to being poor as hell. Something is about to happen and I'm going to lose, again. I don't have much left, so when this happens it tends to be catastrophic to my world.

I'm just so hopeless. I can't see an end to this. Maybe it's the end that's near. Maybe my fight is almost over. Maybe I'll finally find what I've been looking for in the next life.

Now there's something I can hope for.

One thing is certain: There's nothing for me here.

Rough Tuesday

Depression has stolen so much from me.

I've been depressed for as long as I can remember. I've been fighting it for more than twenty years. Since I was a little girl, there has always been this ache, this darkness, this doubt, this emptiness, this pain inside me. This desire to die. This all-encompassing loneliness.

Depression pushes everyone I know and love away from me, and I can't help it, and I'm helpless to stop it. It clouds my every thought, it influences my every decision. It lies behind every smile, and it overflows my every tear.

Recently I've began following some groups, and I'm beginning to understand more about it.. This thing, this demon inside my brain, that I've coexisted with for as long as I can remember. It's a disease. It's not a mood, it's not a phase - it is an illness that I've born for most of my life.

The moments I have, like last fall, when it was almost entirely gone - the weight literally lifted off of my soul - my smile turned up a little more, my eyes sparkled, my laughter was more often and more heartfelt. Hope, that bastard, shone out of my very being.

And then... and then. The demon came back. With a vengeance. Worse that it had been in a long time, and I'm still working my way through it.

I medicate my depression with alcohol. Alcohol makes me numb, makes me happier, makes me more open and more normal with other people. My anxiety lessens, for once, and I can be who I want to be. I can do normal things and have normal interactions and conversations. Without it, I am a clammed up, walled up, mess of a human being. Incapable. Undeveloped. A crying little girl curled into a ball for comfort. A 32 year old who clings to pillows to receive a hug in return. To feel comfort.

I've done this for as long as I can remember - longer, probably. I've always just wanted my bed, my pillows, my stuffed animals - my comfort. Where I went to in order to receive comfort, and love. I never got that from my parents, very rarely. They didn't hug much, they loved in a different way, and still do. They've never known what to do with me.

Little, sad, lonely Maria. Friendships that never last, everyone just keeps hurting me to the point where I have to cut them out entirely because being alone is better than being betrayed and hurt and let down anymore.

I don't even know if that's real. More and more I think it's the depression that hurts me. That little actions affect me much more than they should.

I don't know why people don't like me. They just don't. People who used to be my very good friends refuse to even friend me on Facebook - they refused to talk to me in high school, even. I don't know what I did. I'm sure it was something horrible and I've blocked it from my mind. I'm no saint. I'm just unloved. Unloveable, most definitely.

So I see other people moving on and having new life and trying things and succeeding and it just kills me inside. Everytime I try, everytime I want something, I fail in spectacular fashion. When I think someone may like me, I am dead wrong.

How many more times must I learn that I am meant to be alone. Wholly alone. My heart is dead. My brain feels like a thunderstorm. I am too much. I am not enough.

I look at other people living their lives and I .. I only look, I don't participate in their lives, not anymore ... I look at them, and I know, I know in my soul, that that would never be me. My anxiety and depression will not allow me to live a normal life, to have a normal relationship, hell, to have anything.

I could never, I can never ... dangerous thinking, I know, but.. I have no reason to believe otherwise. I have been fighting this thing for so long, I overcome it every day just to wake up and get out of bed. I overcome it every day I make or receive a phone call. It's exhausting.

It is very, very hard to remain strong. I've been battling this thing for over twenty years and there will never be an end to this fight. A little help would go a long way, but I'll never have help. People dislike me for any reason under the sun - some I bring on myself, some I don't. Either way, no one wants to see me. When they get a glimpse of who I really am they all disappear. Or they don't see it at all, which may be worse.

Not sure why I'm writing this at all. Sometimes it helps. I cried half the way home from work today and I'm crying now, and sometimes I get a respite from these feelings after I cry a little.

Nothing really happened to trigger this crash today... not totally... just another Tuesday. In my wasted life.

Not a surprise

I guess I need to just say it, for myself, I don't know.

I am brain sick. I am brain-terminal, actually.

I've been brain sick for as long as I can remember.

I can't look to the future because I honestly do not see one. I have never been able to imagine one in my entire life - except for some far off away. Actually, maybe that's not even true. When I was very young, like 10 or below, I dreamed I'd be married by 23 so that my husband and I could have a 50th anniversary - so that I'd have love my entire life. The only dream I've ever had since that was living alone in a large cottage in the forest - far away from anyone or anything. And I dream of a half-moon balcony into the trees with only white chiffon curtains. My bed is on a platform. There are speakers throughout my little forest, so when I walk through it and enjoy it I can listen to Sigur Ros or whatever I want.

That is truly, honestly, the one and only dream I've had.

Of course there are those little ones -- that vision I had of two children that Jim and I had, and all those little moments with Mike from PT,... but they are so few. And SO few mean anything. I only remember the exceptions, and they only ever torture me in the end.

I was diagnosed with major depression and anxiety in 2004. I medicated for three months and they turned me into a shell - a monster. So I quit and have been trying to manage this beast on my own for years.

For the most part, I've been alright, I guess. I've learned a lot - in one relationship, with Chris, I've been through almost anything you can imagine. And i'll never, ever go back, no matter what. I'm not sure if it's fear or intelligence that's making me ghost him, but either way, I am cutting him out cold turkey. It's hurting him, and to be honest I feel extremely guilty for doing it this way, and on the other hand I am happy he's so hurt. It's about time that I shared some of the anguish in this relationship.

It's immature but whatever. No amount of talking or rationalizing will ever get the point across to him; it never has. He's always insisted that I was wrong about literally fucking everything under the sun. He needs to just let me fucking go.

So now, I don't know. I have been so far down, the depression and anxiety both have been soooooo suffocating lately, it's hard to see anything else. It's hard to be anything else. I went to dinner with Kelly last night and couldn't even fake it. She asked about Mike and I almost started crying at the table because no--- he doesn't like me anything even remotely close to how i liked him, he hasn't spoken to me, he hasn't done or said anything at all, no matter how small, since the last time i tried to talk to him and he completely blew me off. So it fucking stings. It hurts. And tears welled in my eyes discussing it for half a moment. I'm miserable all the time. I am low, I'm beaten, I've lost. I give up on life. Completely.

It's her turn to see how dead I am in my eyes. It's her turn to worry. It's her turn to say something.

For the past several years, I've been the strong one. The one pushing for someone, be it her or Joey or whomever, to keep fighting. To be happy.

Now it's my turn for a little support and I guess I either shield it too much or they don't care at all because it seems like no one can see it.

I don't see a future for myself because I CAN'T see a future. Because I don't want to think that I've spent the next five years of my life fighting this shit and surviving. I don't want to imagine suffering that. Sure, I'm strong, and that's great, but it's not what I want. I can't bear to do this anymore. It's exhausting, it hurts, and nothing ever gets better. Ever.

I'm a waste.

I can't even dream a future where I'm not.

I win a battle every morning to get out of bed. It's so difficult. Everything I do on a daily basis is getting harder and harder.

I'm brain sick - I'm brain terminal. No one even wants me around. I don't know why I fight.

It's all stupid, everything is stupid. I don't belong here, and I never will. I was and always will be a mistake.


Bereft of feeling... of emotion.. of joy, of interest, of everything.

My only real work friend is distancinf herself from me and has been for weeks... then tells me today, full of guiltx that she decided shes quitting within the next few weeks....

Boy i like, that ive spent the better part of a year dreaming striving hoping and crawling out of my comfort zone for, has utterly cut and shut me out. Absolutely gone.

So im empty. Alone. Bereft. Numb.

Nothing, nothing at all stirs me except anger and pain.

Work is a nightmare.. i cant take anytbing anymore.

My foot feels awful. Im fatter than ever. I had a cigarette on my way home and felt nothing.. just got ash all over my car. I had 4 beers and started to forget, but it wasnt enough, my stomach hurts, and i dont enjoy the taste of anything anymore.

I am low. Lower than low.

Getting out of bed is such a struggle.. worse than ever. I just.....

I am ... drowning in a sea, all alone. No one can help... no one would.

There are moments and actions i should feel happy about, i should appreciate and cherish, that i just .. cant, no matter how much i push.

Bereft of feeling. Im in a desert now, dry and numb.


I know what dying feels like.

I die a little more every single day. Every passing moment.

Then there are times, like right now, where the universe takes another chunk right out of me, and it's a free fall, sliding down a mountain of shit til im dead at the bottom.

It's all encompassing. Consuming. Suffocating.

Nothing wants to move. My heart doesnt want to beat. My lunga sont want to breathe.

Yet here i am. Here i remain. Here i endure.

For what?

No, seriously... for what..?


I am a human reject. I dont belong to this species. I am a failure and an outcast. A disappointment. A waste.

A waste of air, waste of mass, waste of life.

The universe will never stop being horrifically cruel to me.

Why me? Why doesnt anyone, or anything, or any spirit.. any animal, any human, anything... ever... like me.. notice me, pay attention to me, hear me, see me...

So, yeah. Don't know what i did, what i did wrong, or what i didnt do, but now i dont even get lousy snaps from him. After all those aigns, all that behavior.. poof, gone. As always.

As. Always.

How come i knew, i knew in my soul that once i was broken up with chris id be alone the rest of my life? How did i know that? Its not for lack of trying. Or lack of interest.

Im a void. An empty void. My heart is too shattered and broken to pick back up anymore.

It's dead; im broken beyond repair.

Permanently depressed with small tiny fleeting moments of hope and happiness. I wish i could stay thia low forever. Getting back up and being kicked right back down is exhausting. I cant do this anymore. Its too much.

Im so tired of being strong, of enduring.

My heart wants to stop, why wont it juat give up already.

There is nothing for me here. Im not sure there ever has been.

Being a ghost would be preferrable to being so invisible here and alive.

How many years in a row has it been..? How many times in a roe now do i get lifted up and hopeful for nothing at all..? How many times must i repeat -- "Maria, it will never, ever, ever, EVER be you!" before i.... before i... just..

Rip chester. I'll never be brave enough to end all this. I'll lie in it, suffocating, drowning, crying, bleeding for the rest of my miserable, lonely days.

Waste of life. I should never have been born.


There's a lot going through my head right now.

The boy I like, really like, convinced myself was the one for me -- has been totally ignoring me for at least a week, more so really. It hurts more than I can even convey. I had myself CONVINCED, really truly believed, that someone I liked honestly liked me back.. and had all this proof and i was so careful and really went out of my element so much.. and now? Now it's meaningless. Now i am nothing.

I'm not sure how i can move on from this. Truly.

It takes me so long to find someone i'm even remotely interested in, and then when I actually do....

and then it's someone who i just fall head over heals for and he just.......

i am ... gutted right now.

Then someone you've looked up to my entire adult life, Chester from Linkin Park, the man whose voice has carried me through the darkest of times more than once, just can't take the pain anymore and hangs himself, when I've been trying so hard to fight that darkness myself.. When that darkness has suffocated me yet again this week, where I couldn't bear one more day... Chester kills himself that night, while I cry and pray I die in my sleep the same fucking night.

Why the FUCK am I still alive

Why was I ever even born.

Fuck this, fuck everything.

If I ever want anything, small or large, the fucking universe has taken it upon itself to troll me at each step. Oh, you like a boy who likes/has this?>? let;s throw it in your face at every fucking opportunity, so you think it's some magnificent sign, that you're on the right track.................. No, let's build you up to fucking crush you to pieces even worse than you ever imagined.

this is my life

forever and always

i'm a fat piece of shit that daydreams herself into oblivion.

fuck everything, fuck everything forever. what did i ever do to deserve this? all i've ever done is wish to die.

no way am i dealing with this angst for the rest of my life. i'm 32 and at my wits end. no way i'm making it to 40. never. that's a promise.

I should've been sleeping two hours ago..

Instead, I fell down the rabbit hole and read my journal for the past oh, I don't know, thirty entries or so, which took me all the way back to 2014.


I didn't write at all in 2015, and it's a shame. There was a LOT going on in my life that year that I didn't chronicle. I left my job at Yack (which I was heartbroken about), began a new career.. my feelings for Darren, which apparently obliterated all feelings for Chris... I don't know. I hate when I stop writing. I have my written journals, too, that are just so... I don't know. Comforting.

My memory is bad. Way bad, anymore. Scary bad. I've been drinking too much for too long - I've been lazy for too long, as well (though that's primarily from this foot injury..).

Anyway. Seems like all I ever do is write when I'm drunk (which I am not today, at all, no drinks in two days and sadly, sadly... that's a big win for me lately) and complain about being alone.

I need to really change my mindset. It's so difficult, though. Today, for instance, I just really wanted to get drunk because I was feeling sad..... I literally locked myself in my room in order to be away from the beer. That's awful.

Work is hard, I'm burned out, and this week has been pretty busy. I'm already at 21 hours after 2 days. I was annoyed with everyone and everything and was just extra salty this morning.

And then, he sends me a snapchat out of the blue of his smiling face and I just. My heart/stomach flipped huge when I saw it and it made my fucking day. Something so trivial, he probably thought next to nothing about it, but I was one of the special ones he sent it to and I didn't have to see it on his story. So.. That's something. Then he responded to me, sort of, in his short way that he's had lately that I can't stand. It irritated me, and I just deflated. I mean I crashed, hard.

I still think there is something real there to hope for. I do. And then this ugly, fearful side of me knows he's probably out with some girl right now..... Sigh.

Maybe if I have faith, a more positive attitude, visualize the success... Instead of dwelling hard on these thoughts. These thoughts that have always been my comfort, because they've usually been my normal.

So, yes, I'm still depressed, but tonight, at least, I feel like I can crawl out of it.

There is a six week fitness class being offered that I want to sign up for. Imagine it - being back to 180 before football. That would be a godsend. I have to do it, right? I have to. I'll try to get Kelly to do it, too.

I need to really focus on getting back into shape, and NOT DRINKING.

Maybe this is addiction? I think it's more boredom. And depression - the agony of having a real crush and this snails pace we've been on for months.

And if I had something to DO after work, that would also help...

So, maybe I'll look into taking a class in the fall, and signing up for this fitness plan... It's two blocks from my house, I've seen the results first hand.

I think this might be the best entry I've written in ages.

1) Stop dwelling on the what if, on the bad. Visualize, put out positive vibes, be nice - don't hide and be a stranger. Just be you. Stop being so afraid of him. It will all work out.

2) Fitness. Focus on fitness. Dieting. Even writing is fitness for the brain.

3) School. Look into school. You're dying to go back, you know that. Look at Michigan, take one class. Apply. At the very least... Look. If you want to be a doctor of History, fucking do it. Consequences be damned. You are too smart to waste your life pining.

I should print this out and read it every morning.

I need to take that class.. get my life back in order. Print out an old photo of skinny me and plaster it up when I consider drinking 8 beers for dinner and instead maybe grab some water and go read....

Please, please, please stick with me... I don't want to fall back into the hole I've been in... Please, please... Help me stay afloat. Help me to rise.

Jul. 16th, 2017

I just want to find a man who wants to explore the world as much as I do.

Even if, sometimes, it is one of pure fiction.