A lousy day. I spent my morning eating junk food and playing Diamond, then went to work at five.

I'm not sure what made me explode, but I did. I found myself in the office not fifteen minutes after I arrived disolving in a pool of tears and rocking myself back and forth.

Alanna said she understands. She said "The person you love isn't the person you're in love with." Bingo. I cried harder when I realized that she did actually understand. I never wanted to stop. My hot tears cooled my burnt face. My rainy disposition brought me back where I needed to be.

Granted, I do love Ben. I love him very much. He treats me like a princess, and never lets me forget that I deserve it. He makes me feel worthwhile. Someone cares so deeply for me, and in such a short period of time. What a guy.... But I'm not in love with him. I simply love him.

I still wear this ring on my finger. Ben asked about it the other day. I told him the whole story; how it began with Zavy and how it still hasn't ended. He nodded like he understood, but I knew that his blood was boiling with jealousy. Us redheads can never lie about our jealousy. Our faces flush with anger. Of course, I felt terrible.

I sat in silence in his car. "...Do you want me to take it off?" I asked.

He shook his head. My heart sank deeper. What am I doing to him? Why am I hurting him like this?

A little free write now...

It had been a long day. I came home late after staying after hours to set up a network in the building. It was dark by the time I was able to leave, and I was annoyed. I would be going home to an empty house. My husband was on a business trip, and my daughter (the college freshman, and the only one that still lived with us) wouldn't be out of work until 'late'. I planned on just going to sleep the moment I got home instead of indulging in the silent house.

And sleep was what I did, not even bothering to change my clothes. I dreamless sleep, like the majority of my other nights. Nothing spectacular.

My alarm clock buzzed me back to consciousness at 5:45 am. As I rolled over, I saw that someone was in the bed with me. I was puzzled of course since my husband wasn't expected to come home for another two days. Her hair draped in front of her face, I saw it was my daughter. I brushed her hair from her face softly. She stirred.

"Good morning." I said.

She smiled sleepily.

"Did you have a bad dream?" I joked.

She shook her head. "I had a really bad night at work." She stopped and stretched a bit before looking up at me. "I didn't want to do anything stupid, so I figured I'd wake up next to someone worth waking up with."

Best. Date. Ever.

I'm so amazingly happy.

I've been stabbed in the heart.

I feel like all of that praying... did nothing. Maybe God's telling me I should leave now.

Dear God, please take my life. I can't take it anymore.

I've slipped. The slope was slick and I saw that, but I kept trudging on. It doesn't matter how good of a grip you think you can get after you've fallen. The point is that you've fallen, and that's enough.

Stupid girls make stupid mistakes. What pisses me off is that I know I'm not stupid. Careless is a better word, although caring is something I very much do.

I'm glad I'm getting together with Lorraine tomorrow. I feel bad because my post-op appointment is tomorrow and I had completely forgotten. Basically, all I'll be able to do is say a quick 'Hello' then run off to my engagement. I won't even get to see Hali, which annoys me too of course. I was really looking forward to hanging out with them, but I spaced. Way to be.

For now, I take Buddy in my arms, have my nightly 'chat', then try to get some sleep. I hope I'll allow myself to rest.

I was home watching I Love New York when I got the sudden urge to call Clayton. So I did. I ended up driving out to his house and we hung out for a while. I was being a complete fool considering the fact that I was driving on these roads especially at these hours of the night (I left the house at 11 pm, got home at 3 am), but by the time I had called Clayton, I was feeling so lonely and depressed I would have done just about anything for contact comfort.

We played silly games and made absolute asses of ourselves on Guitar Hero. It's been a long while since I had that good of a genuine laugh. Clayton got this idea that he wants to really play guitar as opposed to the *coughriggedcough* game. He got all excited about how he was going to play and I would sing like before. I was excited yes, but I was more interested in learning how to actually play this odd instrument.

All of the guitars were faced away from me, and I believe there were five of them. He picked up his new Fender and strummed around on it before setting it down. Finally he decided on his navy electric. He hooked it up to the amp.

"Which one do you want?" He asked me.

That's like asking which piece of cake I want if I've never eaten sweets. I shrugged. "The blue one."

"You mean the one I'm using?"

"No, no. The one closest to me."

"Oh. That, my dear, is a bass." He said.

I frowned. "Hand it here."

I strapped it on and held it in my hands. I felt a strange sense of confidence in holding this instrument I didn't even have the slightest idea how to play.

"It suits you well. Very well." He said, looking me over.

I looked down at my attire. I had my pink Hello Kitty pajama pants on with my green t-shirt I had worn to work today. Maybe bass players are supposed to look like shit.

He taught me D chord and I flirted around with that for a while. After a few things that I would even think to call a song, Clayton decided to play with a peddle he had recently gotten. I sat with the bass in my hands, dreaming about the band I so badly want to create and be in.

I hit a note. I strummed it a few times, then moved to a higher note, down to a lower note.... before I knew what I was playing, I played the bass line to War All of the Time. Of course it was slow going at first, but I heard Thursday's music in my amp. It sped up gradually until finally I was playing at full tempo. Clayton even played the guitar part, and I sang. More like screamed. I didn't tell Clayton this because he would have kicked my ass, but I think I strained the old pipes a bit tonight. At the same time I find it hard to care. I was having such a marvelous time I hardly noticed the pain (the blood afterwards was what I did notice).

I can't believe myself and what I did. It was a terrible day, but the night... it turned out okay.

Ducks are outgoing, social animals who feel the most 'at home' when they’re in a larger group of other ducks. This group of ducks is called a paddling. They spend their days looking for food in the grass or in shallow water, and they sleep together with their paddling at night. Ducks use vocalizations and body language to communicate. Research recently conducted at a British university show that Ducks even use different dialectecs, and have accents dependent on where they live.

Ducks are very unique little creatures. Once Mallards select each other for mates, they mate for life. When you see a hen or a drake all alone, the mate is dead.

I was walking to Sociology a week or so back and I saw a male Mallard. He was going crazy, quacking his head off and making one hell of a racket outside of West Hall. I stood and watched him for a while from across the street. He carried on for minutes, but it seemed like hours. I thought to myself: "What is so wrong with this duck?"

I heard flapping overhead and I looked upwards. A female Mallard was flying over my head. She coasted, and dropped to the side of the male Mallard. He stopped crying, and ran to her side. They nuzzled slightly.

I believe it sweetest thing I've ever seen in my entire life. It melted the ice off of my heart.

Thanks you, God for sending me those ducks.

I was searching around the Internet, looking at funny and entertaining things to occupy my mind. Depressed, of course. My only mood as of late.

I stumbled across this person's writings. I don't know who they are, where they come from, or what their interests are, but they wrote something that stole me.

You know, there are 20 angels on the earth right now. Nine of them are asleep. Six of them are playing. Four of them are working. There is one angel who is reading this and secretly wonders if this last angel could be her.

It blew my mind.

I'm not delusional. I'm not telling myself that I am this angel, without any shadow of a doubt. That would be foolish and in my opinion, a bit narcissistic. What I did take from it though, was inspiration. I have a purpose in life, despite how dismal and gloomy my future looks. I'm better than this. I need to help people. I feel somewhat obliged to save them.

I might not be the angel that this person wrote about, but I must admit I would really like to be.

None of this is going to make sense.

It's been a bad day. It's been a very lonely, quiet road. I hate myself for all the mistakes that I can't fix, but for some reason I feel guilty for forgiving myself. Can I wash my hands clean without feeling like I've done the worst thing in the world??

I wrote all over my body, in hopes of gaining some pride in myself. I free wrote, hardly paying attention to the words that came out. My left thigh surprised me. "You need to stay calm. You will be alright, and you need to love yourself. No one or nothing is so important to make you feel this miserable. You are a good person and you are worth it. Love yourself. Please, even if he doesn't."

My head is in the right place. So is my heart. I know I'm on the brink of something great. I know that I have so much potential in my life, but I don't know how to use it. Whenever I try, I get shot down.

I'm so done. I'm done trying. I'm done loving.... I can't anymore. It's all gone.

I love you. I can't even use the right words. There aren't any words that could ever come close to explaining it. I'm so sorry.... I wish I could fix it. I wish I could get out of your hair and you and I both could get on with out lives. You know what's funny? I thought today that I should just stop being around you. I wouldn't bother you anymore. You'd have a great life. I don't care about me anymore. I want you to be happy.

Stop it... please stop it. Make it stop hurting me so much. I'm just a girl... just a silly stupid girl with nothing but a dream and a prayer.

And you know what else I've been praying for? I pray that God would take my life in my sleep. I pray that no one would miss me, and I pray that everyone would live happily. I want everyone to be happy...!

Please don't judge me for this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Just make this pain go away....