insert string of bad writing here

i suddenly had an urge for stream of consciousness. hasn't happened in a while. go figure i would get a kick after reading something talking about depression and fucked up lives...

i'm ok for a while. in the midst of all the driving and walking and yearning to be somewhere that feels safe. the looks from my parents and knowing that they know something but they don't tell me... knowing i know something but i don't tell them? i leave them alone to their own business. it's not my life, not my deal. so why can't they just leave me alone? i don't like the looks and the treating me like a child. i haven't seen them practically for three weeks, and it's been good. and that's odd.

i want to keep writing, writing doesn't come often. kicking people out of computer labs and into a campus where everything closes early and no one really wants to help you with things. i'm tired i want to be back already.

i wrote two pages on sunday before i talked to you. i think i'm going to burn it now... i hate writing on paper because that makes it real, and some things i don't want to be real. i don't want to admit things and have them become real... even though they've probably been here for this whole six years.

scary thoughts, remembering back. remembering emotions and situations and thinking how far i've come, and yet how much i keep myself in the past. the past is the past is the past. i like being in the present.

cold. it's cold in the buildings. sitting here... i want to watch the stars and be alive again.

miss you.