Here

Sometimes there are so many thoughts floating around in my head that I have to write them down, to say them. Because then I can get on with my day.

All I have left of my partygirl days are colorful memories and stories. Not much else. And when the blue days hit, it all seems like such a monumental waste. Proof to myself of how I fucked up my life. Because in the end, I'm still alone. And that's my own doing. The partygirl days were filled with superficial relationships. Don't get too deep. No one wants to hear it because it could potentially ruin their buzz. No, just sit at home by yourself if you feel like crying. Then wipe away the tears and put on your happy party face once more and go out and see the rest of the world.

One day the parties stopped and you woke up here. And while here is OK most of the times, there are times when you think, "And now I understand why they used to say, 'Die young and leave a pretty corpse.'" But that won't really work now. Because here you feel old and stupid and unattractive. Not always but on some days.

People say that I'm really good at keeping in touch with others. I have to. I just don't believe that left to their own devices that they'd bother. Might have something to do with all of those times I used to run the "test" years ago. I'm sure some of you have done it. You come home on Friday night and wait to see if anyone bothers to call over the entire weekend. They usually don't. Because they have better things to do than to be bothered with you. And then you eventually stop running the test because you know what the results will be.

And you wonder about these people who are busy out there living. How do they do it? Because in all those years during which you tried to forget about dying, you now realize that you probably didn't learn anything about living. You simply exist. And some days you feel cheated. Because in those years of wanting to die, everyone else would say, "But you have so much to live for." And now you think, "If this is it, then I think I may have been lied to." But maybe this is all that there is -- having an apartment that you like, a job that you like. Maybe it's childish and selfish to think that there should be more to it all.

Then you start thinking of watercolor washes. How when the brush first hits the paper, the color starts off strong and then it fades. And it's kind of how the blue days feel. In some ways the lighter days are the trickier ones. Because you never know when that little bit of blue will pop up. Some days you think to yourself, "I don't really want to feel this way." Others find you wrapping it around yourself like a comforter, not wanting to leave here.

And so today I think I'll just sit here. And maybe I'll finally figure it out. Probably not. So it will be just like any other day.