There's something about being in university all day and being overwhelmed by the amount of work I have that makes me forget just how miserable I am. But then when I get home and I am left my pajamas and my laptop, that's when I turn to my iPod for comfort. That's when I feel like crawling into bed forever and crying like a baby. That's when I feel so much hatred and anger towards no one in particular, and the frustration of not having anywhere to channel these feelings starts to consume me.
I wore a t-shirt that says, "kiss me… it's my birthday" today, but I don't want anyone to kiss me and I want to forget that it's my birthday. But I also don't want to attract attention to my manic depression and be forced to answer questions like, "are you really okay?" and "you know you can always talk to me, right?" Because the truth is, there is only one person I want to talk to. I want to call someone and just cry openly and freely and complain about everything I feel I lost and about the horrible pain I felt when I opened that box that is hiding on the floor of my closet. But I can't call someone. My denial is telling me that it is only a matter of time before he returns from California. But I know that it's not a matter of time. And nothing is coming back for me from California. And I'm just waiting for something to make me happy again but that's not coming anytime soon.
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