fearthealldepressingrecluse
I've decided most of this summer shall be spent locked in here, blinds drawn, hiding in darkness, working away at my sketches and crying away my past.
At least, until I get a job. That money thing likes to rear its ugly head every so often and bite me in the arse.
I can't explain why I am so depressed as of late. I think it's this town, but I've nothing to prove that. Perhaps its the lack of interaction with familiar faces, the random encounters in the dark, the absence of substance or emotion in my relationship with anyone I see.
Where can I escape to? Everyone I know seems either too far away or too busy for me to even bother seeing, those from my past I have lost all means of even saying the simplest hello...
... and with save a few, do I really want to, with all the bad memories that it entails?
I keep running from a past I still am not ready to face.
I hate this hiding, this ridiculous play I have wrapped myself in, one in which I play a conniving fool. I hate it... even in private to myself I cannot reveal even to the darkness the measures of my true purposes and my true emotions.
Not enough to my closest of friends could I disclose thus.
Certainly I may raise questions by saying this, but it's human nature to assume, and not to ask. I have become so adept at hiding with half-truths I do not even think those who have known me in my best and worst of times know what it is that so torments me, nor could they possibly guess.
I wonder if I truely know myself.
I am rambling... shame on me. I haven't even a drop of alcohol in me.
I shall return with booze and more depression. I don't really enjoy writing this sort of thing... I swear this town will drive me back into insanity.