I don't know whats happening anymore. I don't feel like myself. My emotions are all over the place. I wanna go home, but I can't. Not yet. I'm a burden on my parents, on my fiance...

He and I end of having the intense discussions that never go well. Its like we're fighting cause we can't be together. He says he feels empty...not because of me, he doesn't know why. I'm terrified its my fault somehow.

I've ended up crying two nights in a row. Things are slipping and I can't seem to hold on.

[EDIT]

I'm going to bed with an undefineable sense of despair. I'm looking at myself like one would study a text book, save that the answer key is all wrong.

I started writing last week, but can't stand the thought of anyone reading yet. I don't know where the drive for the story is coming from. I haven't really written since highschool. Easing back into it you might say.

I've been forgetting to take my medications...I don't really know why. I think that may be why my stomach's been so off, feels like my inside is wobbling. Going to set an alarm on my phone in the morning if I can remember.

Its warm in my room...uncomfortably so. But there's nothing I can do about it since there's no window. well technically there's a window, but it just looks into the studio if you open it...not much of a draft is gonna come in that way.

Shit....I fucking hate moths. One is buggering round my computer screen.

I think he's gone. I can feel my heart in my throat, more so when I breathe in. Odd sensation really.

I should go to bed. I have a meeting at 10am with my new supervisor. I have to show her what I've done so far on the internships and demonstrate the new database (which is pretty much a tricked out Excel sheet, though I am rather proud of it). Its simple, but she's not so good with certain software. Its gonna be a long day. Have to stop most of my caffeine intake, cannot watch television or use my computer for three hours before going to bed...doctor's orders.

almost (but quite) a case of "the cure is worse than the disease" save that this is supposed to help me sleep, or least get me as normal as I can be for the sleep study. this is going to require me to be social...or stack up on good books for those somewhat down nights when my mother's had a really bad day at work and is about as approachable as an attack cactus...

sit boy sit! good cactus...now stay...

damn moth...crap I killed it...now its a dead moth and I feel guilty...

how crazy is it that I feel bad for killing a moth? I couldn't watch the end of Gozilla (the bad remake with Matthew Broderick) because I get all choked up when the monster dies. I got tears when the creature tried to wake up its dead youngsters after they were blown up. In fact its happening now. I'm starting to cry.

God, I hate me.