There is more to the universe than the way the sun sets every evening, the way leaves dance in the wind, but is there anything in the universe more important? Today, nothing matters aside from the trees and the cool breeze slipping in through my window, not to me. Perhaps even the text on this page means more than human existence. Sometimes I don't want to be. Today, I want nothing more than to just be, but without distraction.

Last night I drank four Mike's Hard Lemonade cooler's by myself, for some unknown reason. I spaced it out and mixed it thoroughly with food product, so it ended up having not much of an effect at all, other then a bit of the giggles and confused thought'y matter, perhaps a tiny bit of drunkin' noding.

My faults.. is this my fault?
I always feel guilty for something, nearly all the time, this sense of not being what I should be, not doing what I should have, being a disappointment to everyone. It usually doesn't make me sad, but rather indifferent. I give up because I don't think that it will matter much what I do, it won't be quite good enough, and even if someone tells me it is, I can't seem to believe it. I'm trusting, too trusting and it leads to a lot of hurt. I write, and I love my writing but it is never quite as good as it could be or should be. I doubt myself. I am very jealous of you, her, them, because I am not what I want to be. I feel anger when someone looks beautiful because I do not feel that I am or ever will be that way.

I lost control of my thoughts.. I did it on purpose?
I only drink when I can convince myself that it is what I actually want to do, because it is not, ever. I do not like to drink, I do not know why I do it other than as an escape from being me. Sometimes, I can't really cry like I need to until I drink.. but if I cry when I'm drunk, I can later tell everyone that it was simply because I was intoxicated and not because it reflected my real feelings. I escape again. It's all about escaping, but I never really do, because it is always with me, if not others.

We curled up on my bed last night and listened to music for a few hours, it was nice and she touched my hair, ran her fingers along my face. It was all a farce really but if anyone had walked in they would have easily mistaken us for lovers, which we are not, but soulmates, perhaps. I get so mad at her, but it's not her fault, it's my own, jealousy. Jealousy, stupid emotion, something I can shake only every so often.

A spider bit her, my best friend, and we joked about it, there really aren't many dangerous spiders around here, I don't think. Her finger was tingly for a while, but it passed. I asked my online friend who studies spider's what he thought, and he said that people rarely die from spider bites. Comforting.. sort of?

I wanted to set my SNES up last night and play The Legend of Zelda all night long, but I ended up not doing so, I think because of the effort it would have taken. Perhaps I might do this today.. a television amidst all of my plantlife, interesting. I used to play Zelda constantly when I lived in Manitoba, I'd stay awake until the sun started to rise and then I'd slip off to bed. Those were strange times, that whole year was strange.. that summer, the best probably of my life but it went so fast and seems so long ago now. I was trying to remember my grandparents old farm house last night and even though I lived there for a time, I couldn't.. that bothered me. Am I losing pieces of me? I think I might be.. unsettling.

Today is in fact, Canada Day, and I'm pondering if I really care enough to do anything in celebration. Probably not. Go, Canada, you are so dreamy and great and all that stuph. I want fireworks. Pretty colours. Maybe we can go to the beach near Owen Sound and watch some tonight..

I'm actually not sad today, or depressed, tired a little, perhaps.. but not content either. I feel strange, odd, not quite "right".. I like it.

We talked last night on the phone and I realized I'd missed his voice intensely. I could listen to him ramble forever, the words fall so sweetly from his lips that it matters not what he's saying, only that he's speaking at all. I tend to think, though, that he's probably more than me, more than I deserve.. he's too dreamy, too cool, for me, I told my friend last night, but I can't help but feel what I do. So let it be, she said, just let it be and so I do, I am.