Dear Diane

This past year I used your name in a less than gentle way.
I've bashed and ranted.
I've expressed my deepest thoughts and emotions behind the mask of your name.
I've neglected you all together.
I left you with a voice no more.

But I missed you.

I missed the little words you brought out of me.
I missed the feelings that came with the rush of my fingers typing what I knew needed to be said.
I missed knowing who I wanted to be.

So here's to concussions, cancer and army deployments.
To suicide, missions and college.

Thank you Diane for the safety of illusion.
I don't need it anymore but I've just grown so fond of you.

Here I am.
And I am M------------------.

I hope you're ready to go on this ride with me Miss Arbus because it's going to be a wild one.

I used to be good at making friends.

Sorry if I stare too long
I like to people watch.

I have 3,462 unread emails.
4 of those are from a missionary.

What is going on though? Like really I mean can't understand. Does anyone know exactly what they should do? Does anyone see a perfect view of whats going on in their life because I would really like some tips.

Both of my dogs will probably die this year...
That sucks.
I'll cry.

My dad says its bad for me to look at a bright screen in a dark room.
Does that mean I shouldn't look into your bright eyes or at the sky as we stargaze?

My teacher asked me what I would like my future following high school to look like.
He thought that the goals were too ambitious and offered me more homework to ground myself.

I was about to walk out the door today but then my mom told me that my sweater made me look frumpy.
I changed and was late to class.

My dad thinks that every time I say something to him, I'm trying to be a snotty teenager.
Teenagers don't know how to carry out conversations right?

I'm the relationship guru but everyone hates the thought of me being happy.
No boyfriends allowed for me but 10 a year for you.

I like to bicker and complain.
Why show that I'm grateful to people that don't care.
Ugh. That's bad... I love all of God's creations.

I have about 107 ugly/cute sweaters.
I'll probably just wear the same 5 over and over again.

This was a draft for 3 months.
I still don't know what's going on in my life.
Only that he is leaving soon.
And that I'm probably writing to no one now.

Oh Well.

Here's to unposted drafts and mind blur nights.