It was all in my head. The reign of terror, the reason I moved out. They had no idea what was going on in my head, and I didn't know the didn't know. Wow.

I should have called more often and now it's too late. I don't know why but I can't give up that guilt. I'm so sorry. For more than I can say. I'm so sorry.

I woke up to ego death and paranoid delusions. I'd rather not have woken up at all. I'm going back to bed to see if the world will seem better on more sleep.

Friendship is knowing the buttons but not pushing them. Being there without trying to make things all better.

Why do I try so hard to forget and then feel guilty when I do?

If life is so infinatly finite then sleep is the ultimate waste. Of course in an infinatly finite life, then it's all a waste.