I've forgotten how to write. I think I hate how my life is right now; so much that I can't even bear to see it written out on my screen. It's like I hate who I'm becoming, but I have no control over it.

My dad knows I'm depressed again, only an idiot would fail to notice that. Other than taking care of the house, I've begun living in my room again and even moreso, hibernating in bed. Not that I can sleep (haven't done that in over half a year), but I feel that I don't belong out with other people. What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm supposed to be selling Avon (it was actually a joke on my part which I eneded up having to go through with), but I haven't even given out the brochures. Nicole wants me to spend more time with her but I can't even pick up the phone. I finally have a good relationship and I can't even be happy about that.

Relationship, Justin. Both in the same sentence. I know, I can't believe it either. I thought I was completely uninterested in the guy, but I went there lonely and wanting attention and ended up becoming very attached. I was pregnant with Brayden when I last saw him... maybe it was hormones? Either way we're back on track again, even more intensely than before. The only thing is he's moving away in a few weeks: can I say, "Fuck me!"... in the Bif Naked context anyway. Whenever something good happens to me there always has to be some heart-breaking, depressing secret beyond the pink glasses. I'm trying to enjoy the time we have left but I can't help but think that it's short-lived.

I'm feeling shittier than ever health-wise. I mean, yeah I've been tired since I was put on Zoloft, that's expected. But all of a sudden I've been feeling a little feverish and a lot nauseous. No, it's not SARS, that hasn't even come close to here; it's actually a lot like how I felt when... when I got pregnant. But it's not that, it can't be. Can someone be *that* fertile? God. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I have the flu, even if Justin says it isn't going around. My kick-ass immune system has gone on strike, I'm being tortured for all my good health.

And just a little note: Mother's Day sucked. It might have been better if my biological and adopted mothers were dead, but they're not. Screw them and all their excess baggage, I never had a real mother anyway. I would have been 29 weeks pregnant by now, a 3-pound Brayden kicking around and causing oh so much torture on my bladder... he loved doing that. I *am* getting my little angel tattoo, I just need the money for it first.

I can't write anymore, my brain hurts.

I'm wearing: Same
I'm listening to: Some nice, serene, Mozart stuff almost entirely on piano
I'm thinking: I'd do anything to stop the nausea... well almost anything