I didn't really expect to live till 20. I'm getting more confident that I'll live a bit longer now. I'm a lot more healthy now.

But, unfortunately, I'm not feeling particularly happy. Roommate hell has hit. I should have been kicked out. That's how I feel. My shrink would tell me this is... what's the opposite of aggrandization? Well he'd tell me it's that. Amanda moved out because she couldn't deal with me because I don't sleep and I am just generally annoying. A few days before she moved out, I'm told, she asked Adam to kick me out and the two of them could live together with a new roommate. Adam said no. He should have said yes.

I may be moving in a bit, if we can't find a new roommate in the next week or two. We've already paid last months rent and deposit so if we must break the lease, we will have until the end of January to find a new place. But I'm paying Amanda's share of the rent for December until we can find someone, and I'm really afraid I'm just going to have to eat the loss: a fucking grand. And it's not even mine. My folks will not be happy. But Adam is broke. And it's my fault. Sort of. It's not, but it is. So who's fucking responsible. Nobody.

Me. That's who.

I feel like I'm spinning again. It's not a good feeling. It's that 'Hi I'm on the edge of a fucking cliff and I'm about to fall but not quite yet' feeling. I'm not scared anymore. I should just expect it. Falling, I mean.

I don't know what shape the Fall will take. That makes it sound so Biblical, I love it.

I really fucking hate everyone. I'm feeling so alone. I don't say it. I'm too scared to admit that I'm fucking alone and I don't want to be. I want to be stoic. I want to be uncaring. I want to be solitary. I want some fucking friends.