It’s wholly frustrating that it seems like the more I figure out about myself, and the more I figure out about other people, how useless it seems to be. Old school get together in Maine was fun. I did my best to avoid all the stories of who was mad with over this guy or that girl and who isn’t making the effort in friendships anymore. Definiately the more I feel like I’m acting against my inhibitions on my feelings, the more I find myself feeling outside on these situations looking in, like I’m somehow destined to always been an observer.

I know I can just move on. I’ve left plenty behind in the past that seemed worthwhile at the time to start over. I suppose it just may come to that again, as I’m constantly stuck in this zone of being felt sorry for. It’s probably that time again, it’s just sad, and in the interim, makes it hard to sleep.