I guess I don't write how other people do. I don't post pictures of myself and update on how my life is going... I don't have an audience for that. Honestly, I write whatever comes to my mind because it gives the illusion that I'm telling people how I feel. I'm never good at that. I have so many opportunities, but its always the same thing that gets me. How much do they really want to know? When they ask if I am okay, do they want an answer, or is it because it's common courtesy.. I don't get myself, so how am I supposed to get other people? A teacher told me today, after assigning an essay, "It's easy, it's all about you!" ...... How little she knows that I can't write about me. When people say, "Tell me about yourself," the initial reaction I have is always the same. I say that I love writing and reading, and that I love kids and want to be an elementary school teacher. That's it. I'm done then. When I write, my thoughts are incomplete, and I don't write for any other reason than to satisfy all these raging thoughts that will not leave me alone. It's worse at night. Lying awake while the house is silent, all except for the air conditioning that makes a whistle and my ceiling fan on high that clicks because the high setting makes it shake. I count shadows that the trees cast through my window, but it can't push away the onslaught of emotions and wave of loneliness. I have tried many things: music, scriptures, novels, conference talks, silence, writing.. but nothing compares to the feeling I used to get when I would lay on my roof in Maryland and look up at the stars. I felt closer to Heaven somehow, and yet at that time in my life I knew I was very far from it. I'm not there and I won't ever be again, but the loneliness remains. Some people can make me laugh and smile no matter how horrible I feel. It's ironic that I feel alone when I have a best friend like Emma to cheer me every day, but I do. I'm glad I always have people around me during the day. There, I said it. I like people. But I hate them too. I like being alone, but during insomnia periods, awake voices are so very welcome. Sometimes I wish I could tell people things again, but my trust is gone. I cannot lean on others, no matter how alone and lost I feel.