I wrote a gigantic entry about school and then deicede it was too long so I made it private. I don't really know why I'm mentioning this. Today was funny. Last year I used to feel suicidal at school and come home and feel better, but today it's almost the opposite. I think I may be generalizing a bit, comparing the whole of last year to one day which may have only been different because of certain things that happened, but I don't seem to really see any of those 'certain things'. I guess it's just that there isn't anyone to talk to anymore. There were one or two people I used to talk to last year on the net who put up with me, but maybe I've changed because I can't do that anymore without feeling that I'm an inconvenience. I guess I'm just selfish. I also guess that I am completely sick of this stupid world, but I haven't confirmed the last, more teenage angsty, one yet. The people who hurt me are very often the people I am friends with (And they don't even realize, though this isn't a 'i love you; why don't you notice' stupid thing, I don't know), and I often hate them more than people I hardly know. Is that bad, to have very little hope in the human race? I wish I didn't hate certain people so badly, because I truly believe they could be nice people if they were, well, nice. In other words, I think they mean well, and I feel horrible for hating them for who they are just because they contradict to my beliefs. And that's as close as anyone's getting, at the moment. I love it when people are awkward, is that selfish? I don't mean it in a mean way, but I do believe that you can tell things about people just by the way they walk or talk, and if they trip or slip on their words, even more so. I love people like that. I wish someone would tell me I'm w-w-wonderful. I wonder if it matters if they even mean it. ------------------- I hate how long my entires are, sometimes, becaue I know no one reads the long ones, or I certainly don't. But I aslo hate deleting paagraphs or ANYTHING from my diary, it's almost like burying someone, because they may not have anything left in them , but as long as you cans ee them they're still, well, 'alive', to you, at least, if not to the rest of the universe. Why do people say Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, but never Happy Wednesday and Merry Friday? Why should we be any happier on 'holidays' than we are on real days. As if anyone cares what happened in the past, what they care about is their own little lives, and so the only reason Christmas and birthdays are any different from other days is that you get presents and everyone pretends they like you. Jesus.