I've not been very happy for the past few days. It's not that I'm extremely depressed either, but just that I find it increasingly harder to make myself laugh, or to amuse myself.

The closest I've come to actually feeling happy was last night, at the swing dancing event. I truly had a lot of fun. I danced with my friends, who weren't really good dancers, but I liked appreciating them dancing just the way they do. I danced with the good dancers there and they really made me feel good, like I can dance. Finally, when I felt really "high", I took on the guy role and danced with my girl friends and I felt even more amused by myself.

In all, it was a night when I made sure I was contented with what I was doing. And I really enjoyed myself. But after the whole thing, as I laid in my bed. I still found myself as empty as before. I still felt like crying. It's just so weird. I'm so hard to please.

When I'm unhappy, shouldn't I be talking to my friends about it? Amazingly, I find this so hard to do. I don't even remember how to do it anymore. Sure, I whine about little things a lot, like how cold it is, how much work I have, blah blah blah. But nothing more than that.

Over time, I've projected an image of being both cheerful and sensible. So sensible that my friends trust me and have a tendency to come to me when they are troubled, but do not expect me to be troubled myself. So cheerful that when I am depressed, they are caught off-guard and don't know what to do. I probably appear emotionally independent, in total control of myself, like I don't need anyone's help, or for anyone to even listen to my worries. But truth is, I do. I'm so scared one day I'm really in trouble, my friends won't be able to hear me anymore.

Sigh. Even with so many friends, I'm just as alone as ever.