I need to write in here more often.
You know how sometimes you want to write something but you don't know how to begin? Well I don't really know how to begin. So much has happened in the last few weeks and at the same time, so little has happened. There have been days where I purposely avoided even logging in to livejournal because I honestly had nothing worth writing. And then I think... what will my future self think when she reads this? I'm sure there are going to be a lot of little things that I'll forget in time. Sometimes when I read my back entries I smile and begin to revisit memories that were long forgotten. But I don't always write about every single thing that happened in my life. I don't usually write about hook-ups that I have, or fleeting feelings of attraction, or what I truly feel about everyone I've ever mentioned on here. I don't always write about the bad things that happen. As much as I tell people that they need to let out whatever they're feeling and confide in people, most of the time if I feel like crying I'll go somewhere where I can be alone and do it in private. Mostly because when I get sad it's because of petty things, like dumb fights I've had with people in my family. Or sometimes I feel like I'm an anti-heroine in some Greek Tragedy, and the harder I try to run away from my fate as some housewife married to a chauvanist pig, the faster I run toward it. Sometimes I'm just upset with the state of the world. On those days, I can't just have a carefree day at marion when there are women and children in Congo and Sudan who can't even leave their houses for fear of being gang-raped, impregnated and infected with AIDS.
I've never had depression, and I hope to whatever God there is that I never will. But whatever I feel isn't probably even one tenth of what Jade is going through. For the first time in our friendship, I'm worried for her life. Since the whole debacle with her housemate and her efforts to move house, she's been getting worse and worse. The night before last, the cops found her wandering around drunk and bleeding at around 4am on a golf course due to self-inflicted cuts. They called an ambulance and she was admitted to the psych ward and stayed there overnight til her friends signed for her release. When she talked to me on the phone an hour later (saying that she couldn't make it to Ali's wedding) she was stoned. Now she keeps saying she's screwed in the head and needs help, and she claims to still be seeing a Psychiatrist and taking medication. But what if she's lying? Jade has survived some pretty nasty shit in the past, but this is the worst I've ever seen her. My biggest fear is that one day I'll get a phone call telling me that she's dead. If she does kill herself, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive her.
I've never had depression, and I hope to whatever God there is that I never will. But whatever I feel isn't probably even one tenth of what Jade is going through. For the first time in our friendship, I'm worried for her life. Since the whole debacle with her housemate and her efforts to move house, she's been getting worse and worse. The night before last, the cops found her wandering around drunk and bleeding at around 4am on a golf course due to self-inflicted cuts. They called an ambulance and she was admitted to the psych ward and stayed there overnight til her friends signed for her release. When she talked to me on the phone an hour later (saying that she couldn't make it to Ali's wedding) she was stoned. Now she keeps saying she's screwed in the head and needs help, and she claims to still be seeing a Psychiatrist and taking medication. But what if she's lying? Jade has survived some pretty nasty shit in the past, but this is the worst I've ever seen her. My biggest fear is that one day I'll get a phone call telling me that she's dead. If she does kill herself, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive her.