I want to cry my little brown eyes out because I haven't in so long. I am pent up Kristen, and it hurts like fucking hell. All these fucked up relationships I'm getting into with the opposite sex isn't helping much either, though I thought it was previously. There still isn't one person that I could confide in to spill my frickin heart out to. It's not that no one cares, because I know many do. But everyone knows random bits and pieces, and it's my own damned fault. I'm not angry with anyone, and if anything, it is only myself that I really cannot stand at the moment. Purge yourself onto electronic pages, onto fiber based pages, into and onto anything.

This knotting in my stomach and the string that is tied so tightly around my heart that it cannot breathe should be telling me something. But I can't get over myself and my own selfishness, to live, to be. Shit, I'm having a rough time and no one knows. But it's no one else's fault by my own. So I condemn myself.

I was driving home today, wondering if I had turned off the gas on the stove earlier. I thought that maybe I'd come home, light up a cigarette, and the whole fucking house (and myself included) would blow up into fragments that once stood as a whole (much like my mind is operating at the moment). And at the time, it felt quite good to think like that. Now sticking my head inside a fucking oven isn't sounding terribly bad either.

This isn't about love and this isn't about caring, about my not feeling it. But I isolate myself, and through four diaries, somehow still manage to leave a large portion of myself in grey area, that grey area being confined to my own knowing. Currently I'm sitting here smoking cigarettes in hopes of making myself puke because I feel so damned sick, while listening to loud music in hopes of drowning out all these sick, ridiculous thoughts inside my pixelated head.

And he makes me feel like I'm some fucking inconvenience sometimes. Screw censorship right now. I'm either good or bad, but never in between. And I'm not trying to make him look like the bad guy either. Maybe I'm just taking it the wrong way. Either way, he hurts me sometimes.

When I hung out with Geoff the other night, he asked me if I used to cry a lot, referring to an old relationship. I thought it was strange that he would ask something like that, and I still don't understand why.