I don’t know what to title this. I realized something two days ago. Almost all pain and suffering comes from caring. Death. You cared very much about the person that died, that’s why you grieve for them, that’s why you miss them. But what about that man who died in the other room? You didn’t know him, so you didn’t really care. Nobody likes death. Why does a relationship with someone hurt when it breaks off? Because you cared for that person, you loved them. Why does t hurt when your parents call you names, when they say that you’ll become nothing in life? Because you care what they say. I’ve learned not to care. I don’t get attached to anything. I don’t care about anything. I’m willing to bet that I still do care about family and close people dieing on me. But I don’t care that my mom yells at me and calls me names. I don’t care if anyone breaks it off on me, because I won’t get attached in the first place. Living this way makes me feel like a ghost. Like I’m just a shadow. I’m dieing inside, but I don’t care. My life is being put back together piece by piece, I’m getting privileges back, yet I feel that something is being taken away. I’m in such a good position right now with friends and my dad, it’s almost as if I might make it through life again. But life is gray. It’s bleak. I find myself stuck in a place I know I don’t belong. I’m depressed. It sounds stupid, being depressed when I’m getting my life back in order. But that’s whats happened. I’ve almost turned back to drugs a few times, but I don’t want to. I really don’t want to. I can deal with it. But I keep some pills on me just in case something happens where I don’t feel like feeling anything anymore. Stupid, right? But that’s what I do. Sorry for this being so long. I’m breaking.