I haven't seen anyone aside from my roommates and Nicki, my future roommate, in forever. i'm not quite sure who still reads this, and I feel kind of guilty for just saying the most personal and coded things which you probably don't even understand. Libby was never meant to be such a personal journal, but I don't know when it will return to normal. I don't know when I will return to normal.

I was talking about this with my sister when she came to visit yesterday and she understood me more than I expected. It's not just that I'm busy, if I tried really hard I could still update Libby constantly. I'm emotionally spent. If I tired to return this blog to it's natural state, each post would be too raw and soon everyone would see my every flaw, my every failure.

I've been looking at my life through different glasses recently, and I've been amazed by what I've seen. It truly astounds me what people are willing to share when they're afraid for you. There's so many secrets, so many stories, so many feelings past and present that they share with you. And either they can relate and understand or they shift around uncomfortably and you know they've never had to go through that shit. And in the end that's what determines how much I feel I can share. And in the end it's so embarrassing and pathetic, and it hurts me a little more each time I have to say it, because deep down, I don't know what would have happened if Lindsay hadn't shown up. Despite what I say, despite how I tell the story, deep down I don't really know, and that scares the hell out of me.

And so the tears come again and I'll return to studying my latin because then I don't have to think about it. I'll listen to my playlists and cry and cry and think about poor Dido and how the fates destroyed her.