Sometimes I wonder why I have this stupid diary. It doesn't really do any good, it lets people in when sometimes I don't want to let them in. Sometimes I look for pity, sometimes I try to get a rise out of people, sometimes I just want a reaction to make sure that people actually pay attention to me. Most of the time it doesn't work, I end up eating the words that I said and end up fucking something up. Sometimes I wonder why I started it in the first place...to vent I think was the main reason. But I do that in my real journal...you know with a pen and paper: they still exist. But honestly, do you people honestly care if I'm happy or sad? Probably not.
I've been feeling weird lately. I laid in my room all day and read a book. Front to cover, just today. I listened to Incubus, my mix CD I made, Michelle Branch and Dashboard. I've realized something: I don't actually relate to all of the songs (yea it's shocking I know.) I need to think happier, because it's all in my head. The depression, the unhappiness, sometimes I hope that if I acted happier then maybe it'll happen, then I think what if I really am depressed...then get mad at myself and listen to more music. Or I've just been listening to Avril Lavigne too much this weekend...I don't know what it is anymore.
I'm just weird in general.
