The problem is blame. Who do I blame? I blame myself. I blame my parents. I blame my friends. I blame my lack of friends. I blame myself.

I hate the rain. I love the rain. I don't know anything. My thoughts are random and scattered, and I am losing my grip on reality. I would call it dropping the ball, but I suspect I've never held it in the first place.

When it rains, it pours. Like it has over the last few days. Nothing seems to be going right. I wish things would go right and I didn't have to fight to get my way all the time. I wish people cared. I wish I had someone to talk to. I wish I could stop wishing for things I'll never have.

It is such a wretched feeling to be held prisoner to others' whims and fancies, to others' wishes and vagaries. I detest the feeling of powerlessness that pervades my days. Held prisoner to the whims of my parents, the BMTC, the rain gods, the garage mechanics, the college idiots, I hate it all.

You lose track of who you are and what you want. Sometimes it's too late. I've discovered this.

I'm sorry. For not being there. For not being on time. For not taking time out. For not thinking. For not caring. And now I will live with the guilt to the day I die.

This was supposed to be longer. But the words won't flow.