I'm riding high on an emotional back drop.
My reaction to everything is stifled, it hits obliquely, and at the end of the day, I really don't care much anymore. My sister dissapeared, she didn't even make it to Wyoming. She was being sent here to get her away from her addictions, but she had dinner with her husband last night, and hasn't been seen since. Then again, I don't care about that much either. Her addictions are so intense that her need to obliterate her mind is endless, and I can see how one can fall into such depths. I don't tread that water, and perhaps I never will. A part of it is seductive, enticing, and dangerous. Then again, a part of me refuses to let myself fall into such disaster, for it is a facade, nothing good comes from addiction.

Perhaps the most prominent characteristic of my generation is apathy. We simply don't care anymore, and then again, why should we? I always feel so drained because I'm constantly worried about how I should act, and I'm tired of it. I am starting to care less what anyone thinks of me. I wake up after a ten hour night of sleep feeling drained, dreading everything. Even if I plan something months in advance, I will most certainly fail. The parties I was supposed to go to but slept in, or forgot. I'm even astonished that I can make it to my weekly therapy. My friends know nothing of this, they just go on as if nothing was wrong. I can feel their silent dissaproval. They wish that I could say the right thing in situations they got themselves into, and then they try to blame me for the way things turned out. I have to constantly remind my friends that I had nothing to do with their decisions, I am more concerned with keeping my own sanity, rather than trying to bandage their wounds when they don't take my advice anyway. I just keep falling down into a spell of apathy--Nikki and her boyfriend split, and promptly afterwards he kicked in her tailight and harrassed her after she declined to spend the night with him. She takes this anger out on me, and I simply don't care anymore. It was her stupid mistake, she tells me that she had no choice. Yes she did, she is just an idiot. I barely talk to her, and I don't wish to anymore. I could have a much better time trying to patch up my own hideous love life. Time really doesn't hold much for me. Most people sacrifice themselves to the inevitable in their thirties and fourties, when looks start to diminish and the grasp of life itself becomes meek, then they will submit to the slow pull of death. I gave up when I knew that I had tragically fallen from grace. I live in a world where events overlap themselves, and memory is as meaingingless as everything else. Where May might as well be December. The only way I can really keep track of time is through writing. I know that during Winter I had a prolific season of writing, but now it is Summer and I've dried up.