In other news... I don't like to feel sorry for myself. I don't want people to pity me or anything, i just want people to see the good in me. My life is just such a mess. How the hell am I ever supposed to be in any kind of relationship when I have to explain the part about still living with my parents and might be doing just that for the foreseeable future? I mean, I think a lot more of myself than I used to dear friends, but I also still have confidence issues. I also have... I eat when I get depressed... I try to fill the void with food. Obviously that's not healthy. I just wish I could get out more and hang out with people more often. The problem is that town is 25 miles away... and mom and dad aren't the most hearty of company, seeing as how they're both in their late 60's now. That leads me to another thing. There's this dark road I travel in my mind a lot of times. It's a morbid, macabre road. There's this sick part of me that makes me think about death and loss and that terribly melancholic music that plays at the moment you realize the most important people or person in your life are gone and you're never getting them back.
I think I need to start going back to my support group.