I call this one "The Return".

This week has been a long and frustrating one. I've tried seeing what it is that is making me so isolated from what I'm normally like. I find burying myself in books has been helping lately. My ordinary ways of working, coming home, sleeping, all to do it over again, has changed. I know it will only be for a short time, but its made me realize that I'm not completely gone. I'm still the same peppy girl, with a world of thoughts, sometimes that I become lost in. This mind would be a waste if i didn't travel. If I didn't get on that plane, and the first time in my life, alone, and see something that nobody else in my bloodline has seen. It would also be a waste if I revolved my whole life around work. Sometimes its okay to plurge into the life of a dreamer. It has crossed my mind that maybe, If I decided to stick with it, I could be an author. I never really considered it before, but with my mind always running wild, maybe its the best thing i can do with myself? I know I have an undying love for music, but I don't think it stops there. I think I have a love for art, as a whole. for writing, for singing, for musical instruments, for painting. Im just one of those types of people who loves to get lost into creating art. This is where my hostility towards this idea comes into play: Why do i keep changing my mind? I want to do one thing, I want to do another. I wish the world didn't revolve around one straight career for every person. In some ways, I like hearing about the Old World. Things were much more simple, mind you I dont much agree with how some things were handled. I think plenty of people can agree to that. We have learned from our mistakes, but whos to say that we are doing it right, now? Imagine all of the people who become a burden to themselves because they are lost in their jobs. All that becomes important is that paycheck. Your life becomes dull, each day rolls into the other, and you find yourself weary of your life. Some are lucky enough to say that they love their job. Most are struck with the thoughts, day and day again, that they want something more than the life that they are living. Life becomes dull, when its the same thing over and over. I consider myself one of these people. I need adventure, I need to be on the tips of my toes, I need the adrenaline rush. Why? I could ask whoever reads this the same thing. Why do you do what you do? Whatever makes you happy, whatever makes your heart beat. Why do you do it? Is it to feel complete? For most people, it is. That's why you hear of people you've never heard of before, With a New York Times bestseller. That's why everyone has heard of Leonardo da Vinci. Indulging in something they truly love, something they truly appreciate. No matter what it is that someone has told them, judged them about, the artists seem to be like a needle in a haystack.. so hard to find, yet so amazing. I am an Artist, And the World is my canvas.

Asking.

I am now an Unemployed 21 yr. old, looking for an education and a part time job.
My Colitis flared up, again.

At the worst possible time, while im trying to get everything together. I wish i was 100% healthy, but dont we all? I wish i could make it go away so i dont have to worry about it, so its not a burden on my life and so that I dont have to worry about flare-ups all of the time.

Although, I could be that person stuck in a hospital bed for the rest of my life, dieing of some kind of cancer, wishing their life away, with no possible way for their dreams to come true.

My list is growing longer and longer each day, with some things I shouldve accomplished a couple years ago, but didnt. I wish that depression didnt exhist, that sickness and death was impossible. To find that one person, who would give me space but at the same time love me unconditionally. If I were to enter a relationship in the next few years, im sure I would ruin it all. I dont want to be this way, but its me. I get so lonely, and all i can do is think about it. Running what happened through my head, again and again. But this was the way we were built, we are all flawed in some way.

Drugs, Alcohol, Suicide.
Ways out.
and now that I dont do those things, my thoughts drive me crazy. I want to be a level-headed person. With no worries, with their future set up, all from a wealthy family.
My family is not wealthy. Far from it..
Im doing this all by myself now. My money, My blood, tears, and sweat.
Work for a minimum wage job, and a horrible manager, and all they can really do is manage their smoke breaks. you'd want a way out, too, right? So i took it, on my Birthday. I passed my notice in, the day i turned 21.
Yesterday all that my manager could manage was a glance at me, at the end of the day, and a pitiful "bye."
No kind words, no good luck or we'll miss you.
bye.

I think way too much into things. Always wondering if im the only person who does it.
Afraid of my parents seeing me as a failure. I already know i feel like it. I feel that my brother sees me as a failure.
I dont get out enough, im a homebody lately, and its starting to take its toll.
I hate this, this me, whoever i am. Whatever I've become.
Obviously ive done something wrong...i can think of plenty of things ive done wrong. When i try to be as nice as possible, it comes back and kicks me in the ass. My father tells me that im silent too much. That he misses Sarah. It tears me apart inside. Mom eats alot now. And they both drink on any day off...to the point that i hate to be around.

Im tired. Too tired to want to go on. I need to be happy, but im not. Not one bit.
I dont know anyone as lonely as myself. But then again, nobody talks to me about the personal things,like they used to. My best friend barely talks to me.. I dont see any girls looking my way.
Whats the sense of all of this? my life feels like a living hell, and as hard as I try to see peoples lives that are worse than mine, i cant help but feel pitiful. Nobody wants to help, and I really think that this time, I need it. I do. Call me selfish, but I really cant think of any other way out of all of these problems. help is all I ask for. Is that too much to ask?

January 8th, 1988.

3 Days..
wow.
In three days, I am considered a full grown-up.21. or, in Canada anyways.
Regardless, i'm still a proud owner of the "young-adult" label.
how many years until your not a "young adult"? how many years do i have left for that?

I'm growing tired of people expecting more and more from me, because it just puts pressure on me to want to change who I really am.
I realize lately that i'm a pessimist. Every conversation i'm included in either includes some kind of apocalypse or depression or how much my friends hate their jobs.
DON'T TALK ABOUT YOUR JOBS, IT IS DEPRESSING. Unless you like it, then go ahead.
I'm tired of hearing "waah waah waah" yet i've turned into that somewhat.
Thats why i've distanced myself from those friends. i'm sick of drama, of depressing conversations, of fighting, of bitching and moaning.. you only live once. supposedly.

I'm ready to be more of an Optimist. But I don't know when that will actually make things better.
I remember being Optimistic. For example the picture. The last time I remember truly being complete, whole, loved. And loved myself. Plus I had the guts to get up in front of the entire graduating class and SING. That's what music is to me. Its more important than most things i know. It's an art form and a freedom. From everything else in this world, It gives me an inner peace. Every single time I pick up my guitar, play the keyboard or sing, I feel almost complete.
almost.
Happy Birthday to me? hm.