on the plane this extremely hyper 11 year old boy sat next to me. he drank two cups of coffee. he talked to me non stop after i woke up. he probably told me every single thing that was in his head that was worth tellings someone. all about video games, his banana seat bike, cows, football, his mom, his grandma, etc etc. i was overwhelmed but it was a nice distraction. i kept wanting to say "did they teach you about drugs in school? i have to leave my favorite place because i did too many drugs. drugs are bad, little boy." but i didn't want to intrude on his little boy world.

my dad picked me up at the airport and all i can think about is how depressing this place is. my mom was showing me her rose bushes and i remembered the huge roses in my front yard in portland, and how beautiful all the gardens are. then i went in my room and cried for a long time. i keep telling myself that i will probably stop crying so much once my brain gets back to normal. right? i don't know. i've never felt like this before. i guess i'm glad to be home because my parents are comforting, more comforting than anything else besides donna. home really is like an opiate, and it's the only opiate i can allow myself anymore. maybe i'll get better.

i'm so mad at myself for getting in this situation that forced me to leave portland, in the summer, my favorite season. i am really affected by place and location and it's hard when i know where i want to be and i'm not there. c. cried because i was leaving, but i cried because i was leaving portland.

this mantra keeps running through my head, "i hate my life, i hate my life." it's not even true. shut up, head.

my family is going down to chicago this weekend so i'll get to see natalie, i hope. that should cheer me up.

the most trapped feeling in the world is wanting to kill yourself but not being able to because it would cause too much pain for other people.