dirty skirty

I stare blankly at my fingertips, hand resting in my lap. "Whose Line is it Anyway?" continues to play in the background, but I had stopped paying attention sometime… well, I don't think I was ever paying attention to begin with.

Three of the five fingers on my right hand have turned bright orange – an effect that cheese doodles tend to have on me. Everyone is here, all around me but I don't really want to be. I've been busy the past week or two, but I'm not busy tonight and I really wish that I was.

I've been avoiding the confession but, I'm completely lonely. Surrounded by people, and I'm lonely.

And it takes a lot for me to feel lonely.

I've been avoiding writing these sorts of public confessions for fear of appearing weak or for fear of appearing like things are not getting better. But then I realized that in return, I've been writing nothing at all.

Hmmmm…

So, you want honesty? Then here it is: I'm not better yet; no, not 100 percent.

I'm still lonely, and I still get sad. And while I do get out of bed every morning and behave productively and responsibly, I now have nights when I retire as early as humanly possible because it feels good to sleep and to dream about other things, and to be somewhere else.

It's amazing the things that we'll do to distract ourselves from depression and loneliness.

I've actually been watching TV – which, well, I don't know if that makes things better or worse, probably worse. I hate television and I can't imagine that it's enhancing my life any. It's just… well, it's easy. And it's noise. And it kind of sucks.

But on the other hand, school is good. And physical therapy is good. And making duck nuggets is good. And taking pictures is good. And I developed my first roll of film ever on my own this past week… and that felt good.

I am good.

It's just that I'm not too terribly fond of the times that are bad.