I don't know what I want to do. I don't know where I want to go. When I want to go, how I want to get there, where I'm going to stay, what I'm going to do or why I haven't been able to make up my mind yet.

I'm very, very close to becoming in debt. I'm scared.

I'm afraid that I won't be able to afford the things I have and/or need.

I'm afraid I'm going to lose the one person who seems to be able to keep me from going completely out of my mind. The reason the stress is only eating away at me rather than actually kiling me.

I'm scared and afraid. There's no denying it. If only people realized just how afriad I was ...

... then again, they propably would if I didn't hide it as much as I do.

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I'm incredibly restless right now. I can't seem to sit still. And it's aggrivating me.

I want to go somewhere and I know exactly where I'd end up. But tonight is not a good night. I can feel that he doesn't want me there tonight. Besides, I have to work in the morning. I can never leave "early."

My mind is just as restless as my body, if not more. Much more.

The thoughts are flying by at increasing speeds. It's giving me a headache. That combined with the clenched jaw and worry lines that seem to be etching themselves a permanent spot in my forehead is making it a worse-than-normal headache.

I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him. About what? I actually have a few things I'd like to talk to him about. One being my sudden and abrupt change in plans. . . yet again.

Another problem I'm having is that reading is no longer enough of a distraction. I'm hardly ever in the mood to sit and watch a DVD, but I've done that twice now; once yesterday, once today. It's even more rare, now, for me to watch the DVD right after I get it. Hell, Sweeny Todd has been sitting on my floor for a month before I finally watched it. Even then it took 3 tries.

The computer is boring me. It's always the same shit. I'm getting tired of the routine, but I don't know what else to explore. Jake gave me a few sites a while back, but they're boring me now too. I don't look into random shit like he does. He's always doing something fascinating, learning new things, researching the random. Out of pure curiosity. That's one thing that draws me to him. It's never a dull and boring moment when I'm with him.

I ache all over. Probably from the amounts of stress I'm putting myself through. I know that I need to relax, but it's much, much easier said than done.

An escape. An escape from reality. It's what I need. But I always have to come back. No matter what, I always have to come back.

If a person didn't know me better, they'd assume I like to fight. Or that I'm incredibly clumsy. I have bruises everywhere. Part of them are from work, the rest from other things. Once I opened up to Jake that I enjoy when he bites me, hard, he's not been able to resist. I seem to have a new bruise every time he leaves me. I'm happy about it though. I think the only thing that would make it more of an exhilaration for me is for him to leave a scar. A more permanent, longer-lasting mark than just a bruise. Granted, the first one he gave me lasted more than a couple weeks; it still vanished without a trace.

Shit, look at the way this blog has turned out. It started with me being aggitated and unable to sit still to the things Jake does that turn me on. I wonder how I made the transition. . .

The more time passes, the more often I have to tell my brain "no." I'm starting to wonder if I really am out of my mind. If I really am beginning to go insane. I don't answer my own questions out loud, but I do in my head. Most of the time it's only pessimistic answers; seeing as how that's just the way I am, it's not surprising.

Ugh. I don't know what I'm going to do.

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I wish it were as easy as simply running away. Having it all end or at least be temporarily put on hold.

I'm sick of crying myself to sleep. I'm sick of feeling down and depressed.

I'm sick of feeling sick.

I want to go to a place where no one will know where I'm at. Or how I'm doing or when I'll be back.

I want to be in a secluded place of serenity. Somewhere where I can be at peace knowing I'm completely free. Free of the pain, free of thoughts, free of feelings, emotions.

If only ...

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Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

If you know it, enter it; or, ask me for it.

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I'm getting very tired of bouncing between moods. Over the last few days, or maybe the last week or so, I've been happy one minute, pissed off the next, depressed the next.

I'm sick of living at home. I'm sick of not being able to have a vehicle available to me whenever I need/want it to go wherever I want.

I'm sick of having to deal with being unsure about everything.

I want to just leave. I want to go somewhere where I don't have to deal with anything I don't want to associate myself with. Only having to deal with this or that when I'm good and well ready to deal with it. No such place exists though. Not that I know of anyway.

When I left Vegas to go to Tucson, I was basically running away from my problems. I wasn't having any luck in finding a job {and I had been searching for 5 months.} I was sick of dealing with my ex, but I couldn't seem to force myself to stop talking to him; which made me even that much more upset. He had broken my heart, severely, and by talking to him, I was just helping him shred my heart into even smaller pieces.

I was sick of dealing with my family. I hated them telling me this was right or that was wrong. I hated that I was still being treated like a child, although with the fits of depression that I refused to do anything about, I probably was acting like a child.

I wanted to get away and that's exactly what happened. When Scott told me he'd help me get out of the state, I was incredibly greatful.

Even with all of the shit I ended up getting into while I was out there, I didn't have my parents breathing down my neck. I had the freedom of an adult.

Running away from my problems was one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

I know they say not to and yes, I did suffer quite a bit by running into all new problems, but I was still happy. I was surviving on my own.

Perhaps ... perhaps I should run away again. Going to a place I had never been to seemed to work out. It helped a little that I had help when I first got there. But three months in, I was forced to be on my own. It was the push I needed though. I still got lucky when I had the help from one last person. The person I got my apartment from. Once my name was the sole name on the lease though? I was on my own. Completely and in full.

Perhaps ... I do know of a place I could go where I'd have the small ounce of help that I would need. It would be the same type of situation as when I went to Tucson. Going to a place I've never been to, to stay with a person I've never met. I'd be testing my trust again.

It's actually an idea that just struck me. I need to put it to some tests and see if it could be accomplished. But at the current moment, it sounds like a very good idea. One that could actually work.

It's even making me smile a bit just thinking about how well it might actually work.

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It's a sad thing to admit, but it's entirely true. I don't refuse the food because I'm trying to ignore my hunger pangs long enough to make them go away.

I refuse the food because I feel guilty about taking it. I didn't spend the money for the food, so I feel out of place by helping myself.

I feel I'll always eat too much or that I'll appear to be too greedy. So even when I do finally give in and make myself a sandwich, I don't put near as much meat on it as I normally would. This way I wouldn't look like I'm taking advantage of the food available.

I shouldn't feel this way in my mom's house. Then again, this doesn't feel like home.

I have the same kind of modesty when I eat over at Jake's house. I know there's food aplenty and he's perfectly okay with offering me whatever he has in the household, but I don't want to appear like I'm taking advantage. Or look like I'm being starved otherwise . . .

I don't like having to rely on people. Sometimes it's necessary, but I try to avoid it at all costs. I survived on my own. I relied only as often as I absolutely had to; 'taking advantage' only a few times.

I don't belong in this house. I knew that before I even moved back. I was only made that much more aware of it very quickly after I was back. The problem is, I still need the help. I still need to rely on my mother for help.

I wish there was a way I could get out on my own. And afford to survive comfortably without being homeless. . .

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