I knew it was bad from the start to get involved. And me, listening to my stupid heart, followed like a beaten dog with no direction. And I'm sorry for so many things today: sorry for what happened around the U.S., with all the attacks and all the losses, sorry for those still alive in the basement of the WTC not knowing their fates, sorry for the heartache for all the families who lost loved ones, sorry for a boy who's being an asshole (and maybe always was), and just overall sorry.

And it's unfortunate that I've wasted so much time with petty crap that I've forgotten what is most important in my life. It's about everyone I love and everyone I will love before I die. My entire body is tied up in knots because there's so much I want to say to so many that are dear to me. And when I have the chance to do it, I buckle, in fear of timing not being right or them not wanting to listen. I'm so aprehensive in that respect. The feelings that have leaked out to those random few have been met by nothing but silence. Sometimes not even that, just nothing.

Months have passed since I've had thoughts about dying, about offing myself. Lately I find myself thinking about it again, on my off time when I have nothing else to do. I kept telling myself that I wouldn't forget to breathe, to be calm. And I find that I relax less and less as the time progresses. The less I breathe, the more I bottle up. And the more I bottle up, the more I regress from society, regress from friends, withdraw from those I love.

My mom's in Las Vegas right now. She's supposed to come home Thursday, but I don't know if that will happen. I'm scared for her to fly, and I'm scared for my grandparents (who are with her) to fly as well.