The main reason I haven't been writing lately is that I am so fucking miserable. Over the summer and autumn I lost the people I spent all last year with, either because they moved or switched jobs or turned out to be an untrustworthy asswipe. That is one major reason that I am sad, and it's also the reason that it's so hard to snap out of it: I lost my support network. Ironically, the area of my life that is the least sad is my job. It's funny because that was what was keeping me up at night in the fall. But I've gotten into the groove of things, and though it doesn't bring me much satisfaction or joy (because it's so much work still), it at least keeps me on my toes. The depressing thing now is everything else in my life: the lack of friends; the hostile, dirty apartment; the transformation of my body into that of a twelve-year-old's; and saddest of all, the fact that I considered this past weekend "pretty good" because I didn't cry at all.
My mother asked me today Don't I have any hope that things will get better? I honestly don't. I'm pretty hopeless. I don't see how things could change in the next couple of months. I look forward to my weekend in Boston with the old roommies, my week in New York during spring break, and the month of July when I will be done with this year and can start all over somewhere else.
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