Sometime in April 1981

(Author's note: I found some papers out of order but Blogger doesn't let you move your posts around. Once they're posted, they're posted permanently in that order).

I feel that I am addicted to writing. All day I have forced myself not to pick up a pen and start writing. I really shouldn't but God things have been rough. The first week back to school went well after I finally made up my mind to pull things together. Sunday I was so depressed because Saturday night my mom brought Kevin over Barbara's house! I was mortified! Then on Thursday my mom and I had a vicious fight. I couldn't take it really. But I pulled myself together for Friday so I could help Mr. Scoz with the pancake breakfast. I had a wonderful weekend again. Monday President Reagan was shot. I was very upset. things went well the rest of the week until Thursday. Barbara had a horrible headache and I was rotten to Ellen (inadvertantly), and by the way Ellen liked the April Fool's joke. Friday was so awful. I just felt badly about things. And now I feel depressed and I HATE feeling this way! I swear. Ellen is not doing well either. If I could only make her feel better. If this was some sort of a test, I wish I could pass. I have trouble keeping friend. Big trouble. Ellen is my best friend and I hope we remain friends for the rest of my life (our lives). I wish I knew what was the matter with me. All I know is that I can't talk to anyone but myself and a piece of paper. I feel so weak. I wouldn't want to be anyone else but I hate myself so much. I sometimes wish I weren't alive but my motivation is Ellen and Barbara. They don't know that though.