Hey Carol.

I brought my stupid journal in for you at our session this morning and you got all pissed off at the fact that I only wrote one word yesterday so I'll try to make this as lengthy as possible just for you. Bitch.

I felt like shit yesterday and I didn't feel like writing anything at all. I didn't feel anything. I just knew that I was tired.

Obviously if I'm tired and feeling like shit I'm not going to sit around all day and write all of my dumb feelings in a dumb journal. Seriously, so what if I skip writing for just one day?

I'm pretty sure I slept for 20 hours yesterday which probably isn't even healthy, that's like how much a lion sleeps every day, and in the 4 hours that I was awake I didn't really feel like doing anything.

Like I said, I didn't really feel anything yesterday? Is that even possible? I just slept and when I woke up I ate some food and took my meds and watched TV and before I knew it I was passed out on the couch again.

But at least I had the decency to apologize for my lack of feelings, right?

I still think that this journal is kind of dumb. I mean, I totally understand that this is all for my benefit, so I can help myself, but I don't think it is helping at all. I also don't think it helps when you, Carol, get upset with me for not writing. Like why the fuck do you care? You yelling at me doesn't help, it just makes me feel sad.

Maya texted me 2 times while I was asleep yesterday, she asked if I still wanted to hang out with her on Friday and of course I said yes. Then she said "cool, I'm looking forward to seeing you :)" and that was it.

I don't really care that she didn't want to talk any more than that, I'm not a very good texter anyway. I think she's saving all that she has to say for when we meet up on Friday, that way we'll have lots to talk about and we won't get bored of each other.

I'm just glad that she remembered that we made plans, that she still cares about me. I can't tell you how many times I've made plans with someone and then had them cancel on me later, Carol, it sucks.

I'm feeling a lot better today, which I guess is good. I'm not tired at all, probably because I slept so much yesterday. Right now I'm sitting in my bed and eating some gummy lifesaver things that my mom bought for me.

My mom keeps coming in and asking if I'm okay.

When I was a baby my mom used to just sit next to my crib and watch me sleep to make sure that I didn't stop breathing in the middle of the night. I guess she'd heard stories about babies just dying in their sleep. That's kind of scary, so I understand why she'd be worried about it, especially because I was her first kid.

I wonder if she still does that. Like, how would I know if my mom comes in and watches me breathe while I sleep? If she does, she does it while I'm sleeping, so obviously I wouldn't know!

She just came in a minute ago and asked me how I was feeling. I told her that I was feeling fine and then she reminded me to take my medication later and said that she was going out for a while. She also told me that I could make myself something to eat for dinner and that I should finish writing that essay. I think I'm going to order an extra large pizza and watch TV instead.

Hey, have you ever thought about what happens to us when we die? Where do we go? I know that physically our bodies get buried six feet under but what would, like, our souls do? Does heaven exist? Does hell exist? Where am I going to end up?

Are these the type of feelings that I'm supposed to be writing down, Carol? These are the things that are bothering me, after all, so I guess I should write them in here. I bet that you won't be able to answer any of my questions, because how would you know if heaven or hell exists?

I guess I'm rambling a little, but does that even matter? This is my journal, isn't it? I'm supposed to just write all of my thoughts and feelings down so that I can get help and so I can feel better again. (Again. I don't really see how this journal is helping at all, because I feel the exact same as I did last March).

I'm going to go order my pizza now, maybe I'll write about how that pizza makes me feel after I'm done with it.
Later Carol.