oh, well, that's all right then
the only people who want me close are the people who are far away.
i hate my life, i hate my life.
i won't end it, though. some times i'm not sure why. but i won't, so don't worry.
i'm really tired, but i can't sleep. brain won't shut up. too full of sorrow.
i am dependent on things that i can't control; thus, the rollercoaster.
it's not a good idea to write and browse at the same time. i forget what i'm writing about.
anyway, i'm depressed because, well, i thought that a girl liked me, and she doesn't. she might've dated me, if i had asked her out, but i can't now. i never let on that i liked her. actually she probably would not have dated me. she would have been surprised and awkward.
i'm thinking that if you're not sure whether somebody likes you, then it means that they don't. not that they can't, just that they don't.
still hating life. just in case you forgot.
anyway, why am i so dependent on having someone else just to feel complete? can you tell me why it takes someone else to make you into a new person?
...
i'm tired now, and i'm tired of the stupid diary. if i have this venom in my head, i need to get it out; but that doesn't mean i need to let other people read it. i need to remember that.