Despair is wrapping its quiet, deadly little fingers around me again. I'm beginning to realize that the things that I say and think don't matter, what I fell doesn't matter, that I'm sort of an invisible person who just exists but doesn't make much of an impact. A cipher. I might not be hated, but neither will I be loved. I'm just going to continue existing day in and day out, like an unseen planet that cycles through the sky, watching everyone else...just circling along in some kind a a semi-ghostlike existence.

I wish I could take my St.John's wort, but the doctor said it'll go through my milk, that I have to wait until I'm done nursing. And I wish that I could have more confidence, that I could be a little more outgoing, but I'm entirely too sensitive for my own good...and when I get hurt, I ball up and don't ever want to talk to anyone again.

I think what it is, is that I need to get some sleep, maybe..... :-(