I don't mean to come to you only whenever I'm feeling down. I always tell myself to make an effort to blog when I am in better spirits, but just the thought of that scares me away. It wouldn't sound interesting, at least it doesn't sound interesting in my head. There wouldn't be anything to say, nothing to have an opinion about.

I feel trapped inside this apartment. Unable to really do whatever, whenever I want. Dare I say, it's almost worst than being in California. Everything has to be just right, not too loud, not to crazy. Can't just go crazy like Prince says, no sir. We will keep the wildin' out to a minimum.

I don't know. One day I couldn't be more in love, the next day I couldn't feel more dead. Maybe not dead. I shouldn't say that. It's over dramatic, and a sign of my ever weakening vocabulary. I don't feel like anything. There is nothing that I can hold onto. I try, and try to do things, buy stuff, all with the idea that I can distract myself enough to avoid confronting any of my true problems.