February 1, 2007
I am not myself. Looking through unused 100 word entries has convinced me of this. They are all decent writings, but the thing is, itís no longer me. I am not that sad girl anymore. I donít dwell over his death. I am not surrounded by blackness. I am here, perched on a rock basking in the warm sun. In comparison, I am happy. Situations have not changed, but the mind has. My life has every reason to cause me depression, but no, I sit here and am fine. Under immense stress, and still I feel nothing. I am blank.