I've become that girl who does not want to see, talk, or communicate with anyone. Not in a real sense. My blog is my salvation. I can talk it out and get a response, but I don't have to talk back if I choose not to. Not in a real way.
In 6th grade I was unnecessarily mean to one of my classmates, behavior completely out of character for me past and present. When looking at the situation closely, I was just jealous of her: that was all it took. Anyway, I became very upset at my intentional meanness. I felt "depressed." Luckily, the "depression" (or whatever) had a source. I could stop making myself sick over the situation by going back to the source of the problem and righting my wrongs. I called the classmate, apologized and befriended her, and felt completely normal again all in a day.
This time there is no source to my unhappiness. Yes, I have triggers but that's all they are. Unfortunate catalysts that forced my mind from the "every day depression"- call it artistic angst, haha- into something more real. This time there is no source, and so I have no way of fixing the problem.
Emotions are so strange, they "belong" to us, except for not really because if we could control them we would hardly be considered human anymore. I'm not sure why I posted that entry, but I'm going to post a few more throughout the week. I feel like I'm slowly moving away from that state of mind, and I chose this particular entry because once again I have no clue what is making me move in a happier direction. Not that I'm complaining. I knew that eventually my brain would get around whatever it was that was stuck there and start making things feel a little more right. Of course, it isn't over quite yet, if ever. Either way, the experience gives me something to write about.
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