2009-10-03 / 1:06 a.m.

I'm afraid to be honest in this place anymore. I don't want to write on paper because that's not what I do. Not anymore. Paper sits around as remnants of angry thoughts and it's so impermanent but yet so solid. It's not safe.
I've been found here twice before. The first time it was okay, but it stilted how I wrote about things. The second time, it caused a fight and a rift in communication and understanding and let it be said that some things will never be the same again.
Truth is - nothing's changed.
I'm still a disillusioned little girl. Always have been, you know. Probably will be for a long time to come.

I lay on my bed today and tried not to dwell on the fact that I am so unhappy. I tell myself every day that I will leave my house and I will do things by myself because they need to be done. There is no harm in being alone. I know this, and I trust this, but it's different when I'm outside and I can't help but be unable to turn my ability to interact with my surroundings up a notch. Can't turn off my inability to stop thinking, to stop feeling.
I thought about the people that have surrounded me my whole life - my parents, my brother and various friends that have come and gone. Some remained, but things are different. Things always change. There is nothing about any of us that relays permanence.

Life right now reminds me of those toys we used to have. There was a long strip of a cartoon that was on a sort of wheel behind a plastic screen, and you could wind it up with a little plastic knob and it'd play out the strip in a loop and a loop and a loop and it'd play music like a little music box. But we never paid attention to the story, not really. It was always about making sure that the toy was wound enough so that it'd keep going on and on and on in that sad, sad way that only children's toys can do.
All I'd ever notice was the monotonous blur of brightly coloured scenery and the tinny echo of a simplified lullaby and that big yellow knob, turning in soft slow motion.
But eventually you'd have to sleep, or you'd have to leave or you'd get plain bored and you'd move onto other things.
Nothing ever quite sufficed though. Nothing ever does.