• oh god. its at times like this that i wish i could still believe. the reason? my mother read my journal/diary. not this one- my actual, honest-to-goodness diary. and now she almost knows something i've been trying to keep from her from months. all my care in covering it up. blown in a day. in less than five minutes. i swear i could cry. i'm not sure what bothers me more, though- the fact that she knows, or the fact that she read the stupid diary. i'll never write in it again, thats for sure. i can't trust her anymore. i don't feel safe with my soul bared in that thing. i don't feel safe leaving it alone with her. i feel SO unsafe that i brought it to my friend's house and left it there. if i keep it here, who's to say she won't go read it again? and she wants me to be able to talk to her. hate to break it to ya, but i haven't been able to truly talk to you in years. I just can't trust her! and... that's that. there is no "and" anything. i can't trust her and that's the end of the story. i'm going to New Hampshire with my friend's family for a couple days next week. i can't wait to get out of my house and not have to deal with my parents. they have a separate guest house up there and i'm hoping i can somehow get it to myself. just me, myself, and i. and my music. a house of my own, for two or three or four days. now wouldn't that be nice? ahhh well. chances are i'll be sharing a room with my friend. but, that'll be all right. my parents won't be there, so i will be free. absolutely free. i can't wait to feel that weight lift from my shoulders.... but anyways. getting rambly. Taylor- its up to you what you do now. ask him out, but only if that's what you really want. if he's worth liking, he'll respect your feelings. give him a few days and he'll be fine with it, i think. he's cool like that. whatever you do, though, think before you act. don't make the same mistakes I did. good luck, kiddo. anyways I must go, i think. lunchtime, loveys. food... "yummy!" as always, yours truly, much love, yadda yadda yadda. Peace, Love, and Pineapples, Zaraiya

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