Not that no one cares about me but why would anyone care whether or not I'm going to the movies with someone unless it's them? I'm also really upset with myself. I don't have very many good friends but that is pretty much all my fault.
I form very shallow relationships with people I barely like on the pretence of being confident and self assured. Well, I'm not confident and self assured, I'm just too busy to fall back into my old state of depression. I'm tired of being depressed, I'm tired of people feeling sorry for me, and most of all I'm tired of having to hide the cuts on my skin because people who pretend to care don't notice that it's the inner cuts that scar. (Mom, did you ever realize that yelling at me because I cut myself just hurt me more?)
But that is in the past, too far back to talk about because that would be petty but not far enough back that I can forget. I'm not sure if I want people to read this but for people who really care and actually want to know about me then, I geuss they can.
I don't want to forget my memories because memories are what makes me special. No one else has my memories and no one else ever will, but, some of them hurt. Most of them hurt. Which is why I fill my life with as many things as I possibly can (AP classes, quilting, drama, NHS, etc.) so that I don't have time to sit and ponder what I'm doing and why. Summer entirely ruins this theory because inbetween my quilting lessons and my 9/11 tribute meetings and my two days a week work schedule and volleyball practice, there are still Saturday mornings that I have nothing to do but sit on the computer and rant.
This doesn't make much sense and probably when I'm bored again I will section it off into pieces and my views on certain things. Maybe I'll do that now, maybe I won't.
