yay
It's my birthday. . I haven't celebrated my birthday in so long, I. . anyway. . .
I had a dream where I was Shaggy, from Scoobydoo; I was the actor, in a movie. It seemed like it was going well. I don't know. . .I guess it felt like I was alone there, too; Scooby was just an actor, anyway, and probably made in 3d.
I've tried so hard to make friends. After my health, it was what I focused on the most. Yet, it often feels like. . . well, at first I thought I had a lot of friends. It was just me thinking I did, and none of them, seemed to think of me as a very good friend. I tried making new friends, and they never message me. I guess they're my friends; it feels like I don't know what a friend is. Reaching out into the darkness, trying to find a friend, and there's never anything
If things don't go badly, then in several months from today, I'm going to get married. I'm worried no guests will come to my wedding. . . "Oh, sure, I'll come if I can. . . yah, what day was that on, oh, yah, I can't make it, sorry." They don't really know me. Why would they want to?
I don't really know me. I feel like I've been holding onto an idea of who I am; that I have certain qualities about myself. It's getting hard for me to believe I am who I am. Like somebody painted a portrait of me, and they painted somebody else. Everyone sees the portrait, and I say "that's not me," and they say "ooh, I see: You're missing this!" And they do something to my hair, or my clothes, to make me look more like my portrait; like. . . . but it's not me, you know: and everyone's trying to make me become this thing I'm not, and I'm trying to be who I am and show them, and it's hard because I'm sick, and. . . even I look at the portrait and think "isn't that who I am?" I feel like I don't even know what a friend is.
I like writing, but maybe one person might read this. No one will respond to it. . I put a lot of effort into things no one seems to notice. I miss this website that's still here.
I had a dream where I was Shaggy, from Scoobydoo; I was the actor, in a movie. It seemed like it was going well. I don't know. . .I guess it felt like I was alone there, too; Scooby was just an actor, anyway, and probably made in 3d.
I've tried so hard to make friends. After my health, it was what I focused on the most. Yet, it often feels like. . . well, at first I thought I had a lot of friends. It was just me thinking I did, and none of them, seemed to think of me as a very good friend. I tried making new friends, and they never message me. I guess they're my friends; it feels like I don't know what a friend is. Reaching out into the darkness, trying to find a friend, and there's never anything
If things don't go badly, then in several months from today, I'm going to get married. I'm worried no guests will come to my wedding. . . "Oh, sure, I'll come if I can. . . yah, what day was that on, oh, yah, I can't make it, sorry." They don't really know me. Why would they want to?
I don't really know me. I feel like I've been holding onto an idea of who I am; that I have certain qualities about myself. It's getting hard for me to believe I am who I am. Like somebody painted a portrait of me, and they painted somebody else. Everyone sees the portrait, and I say "that's not me," and they say "ooh, I see: You're missing this!" And they do something to my hair, or my clothes, to make me look more like my portrait; like. . . . but it's not me, you know: and everyone's trying to make me become this thing I'm not, and I'm trying to be who I am and show them, and it's hard because I'm sick, and. . . even I look at the portrait and think "isn't that who I am?" I feel like I don't even know what a friend is.
I like writing, but maybe one person might read this. No one will respond to it. . I put a lot of effort into things no one seems to notice. I miss this website that's still here.