Back again.
I’ve been away for far too long. Two years or so. After the horrible election I just couldn’t write anymore.
Things have changed.
I moved, I moved again, I broke up witht he boyfriend, I met someone else, I got engaged, I’m gonna move again.
I never change. I’m still the same. Paranoid, lonely, afraid and still haven’t got a friend to talk to about things that worry me.
People always say they write for themselves, and not for anyone else. I don’t. I write for the ones I hope will read it.
I want them to read it so they see how I feel, since they never ask me that question.
I’m not someone to care about and I question people’s motives way too much to become their friend. But they don’t care about me, or invite me, or call me, or write to me, so how am I supposed to trust them or feel that they want to be my friends? It’s all empty words.
I just move and hope it will change. It never changes.
Since I was 16 years old I’ve kept up this cycle of moving. I’ve moved sixteen times in nine years. This will be move number seventeen.
Will this be the One? Maybe I’ll get friends, friends that care about me. Someone to talk to when everything feels like total shit and I feel like I want to die.
Maybe this is the one.
I always say that though…
Always.