Just read through a couple of semi-recent journals(spanning the last couple of years) and wow...depressing much?
I feel that if I could sum up everything I've been saying for two years it's that I depend so much upon the love and company of others to bring me happiness that when they leave(and they always do), I'm left clueless as to who I am or what I'm doing. and really, what the fuck am I doing?
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