I still haven't heard from one of my blogging friends. I'm sincerely worried not just that she tried to kill herself, but that she might have succeeded. I liked her a lot and she liked me. No, I won't use past tense. I won't cry and write about her until I know something. That'll make it too real. Otherwise, I'm just hiding in my room watching romantic comedies and guzzling tea. Everyone wants to talk or hang out to me and they can all ******** off. I just get like where I need a break sometimes. A break from being nice, a break from caring, a break from being social. I don't even remember what it felt like to sleep somewhere other than my own bed. I miss it, but maybe more for the good stories to tell. The Paxen people really want me to get a job, and I'm thinking about it. It'd be nice to have something to keep me on track before college. I'm not sure I'd like to work all the way on the Westside though, but maybe I'd be less afraid of running to anyone I know and having to be pleasant. I dunno though. I need to keep some semblance of freedom or I'll go mental. You know, the freedom to dye my hair or something if I want to. The freedom to do absolutely nothing. There's stuff I'd like money for, though. Like formal piano lessons. It's getting really difficult to teach myself stuff. I know why I like it, though. It keeps my hands busy. Like last night, someone came around who had opiates. Offered them to me. I focused on the keys. I was fine. It took so much energy, but I was alright. I'm so tired of being strong, though. I'm not saying I'm going to give in. I'm not. But it was so nice not having to watch myself every moment of the day. Always on guard. Vigilance.