This isn't going to be easy. I just hope it's not a mistake. It wasn't a hasty decision, that much is certain.

It finally hurts. I don't know why I feel things after the fact, but I'm sure it has something to do with initially repressing every emotion, thereby forcing them to surface later. It sucks to remember what was, so long ago, and accept that it's gone. But mostly, I feel horrible about being the one who's fault it is. I wish people would stop loving me. Well, except my parents. I fuck everything up. I will hurt everyone who ever cares about me. As a teenager, I used to warn people: "If you think you like me, you just don't know me well enough yet." The most common response to that was an awkward chuckle, assuming it was just part of my weird sense of humour. And it was, but it was also semi-serious. Like so many of the things I say. Half kidding with a hint of honesty underneath. More often then not, they'd find out the hard way that I meant it. Then, like the bitch I am, I say "I told you so. You can't say I didn't warn you." But I haven't warned any of my current friends. For that, I am sorry.

It's my birthday on Friday. I have no idea what is going on for that. There was talk of a party last night. That might be fun. I don't usually like parties anymore, but they're ok sometimes. Especially if they're about me.

Three years ago, a ring of Nancy's was in my possession.