My ability to write something worth searing your poor eyeballs out with computer static has been short of impressive in the last couple of weeks, to say the least. I should write journals worth reading again, like I did when I was young and stupid, full of hormones and complaints....

Oh wait... I still haven't changed.

Its February, I think. I'm not quite sure since it is in the 70's outside today. I would expect this kind of misery from april, but February? My lovely ice coated February? Not in Texas. This psychotic shift in weather patterns may be the cause for some of my behavior as of late. Either the weather, or my lunacy. I had an episode yesterday.

A very bitter episode. A very insulting and angry episode. And rather than just say that I was unhappy, my passive agression got the best of me and I ruined everyones day with a simple invitation. I felt very used, very alone, and unwanted, and I wasn't sure just how to express that. So I had a fit and got upset in a pet store, and a movie theater, and the van, and a car, and at Braums, and I didn't know how to justify my clinginess. Hmm, I wonder why?????

I fell better now, of course. Because I always feel better in the end. Usually because everything that comes out of my mouth is unjustified and irrational. I still don't know how to explain what was going on in my head, considering my english is shotty, and I like to throw temper tantrums. So to save face.... or something ... I won't. Because I'm okay now. Until next time I go insane. Stop putting up with my and bash me in the head with something heavy. Save yourself.

I can't.

I was walking around the upstairs in my underwear this morning, and couldn't helpt but feel like a stranger in ... well, the upstairs of someone elses house, wearing my underwear...

I realized that no matter how many homes I gain, I won't ever be satisfied. Will anything ever feel like home? What is home supposed to feel like anyway? Am I just driving myself mad over nothing? I want to feel like I'm at home, whatever a real home is supposed to be, but I can't help but wonder .... about everything.

I hate Kroger.

Amo vaccae,

Shaye