12 Oct 09

Dream last night. I was in a house. And there were a bunch of young crazy people, about 16-22. I had to evaluate them. I wasn't a doctor, but I was there to take care of them, and had a notepad. I couldn't read my own writing. I was writing down their conditions, and what they were taking in order to help them. A lot of them were quite rude to me, but I told myself that they were sick and they needed my help. One girl was very nice to me, but then was mean.

I was suppose to meet a friend for lunch today, but was sick, of course, and had to cancel. Stomach upset, and headache. I have my doctors appointment tomorrow. Hopefully whatever they give me will help.

I am trying to remain calm. Easier said than done. I take walks, and listen to Lily Allen, and watch Buffy, and Craig Ferguson, and listen to music that I like. I try not to be sad that my life is hurting me so much. I try to hope that there will be something better. I try to imagine how my life can be better.

I don't believe that anything I can do will make it better. I feel like I'm infected. I'm a bad person. I'm not good enough to lead a happy life. I'm too needy, I'm not strong enough, I'm not smart enough. People I know who were idiots in high school are doing better than me.

I try to not be so disillusioned that I lose sight of the good in life. I try not to let myself be like some, who only see the practical, so-called realistic side of life, but allow myself to indulge in the hopeful, perhaps not entirely "truthful" side. The side that encourages one to try to get something good out of this awful existence we've been handed.