"Your father used to say that living with you was like listening to the longest sentence in the world...and now only I can hear it." Tonight's Episode of Six Feet Under

"And for a moment I thought I was the luckiest drag queen in the world." Trick

I have a lot to write but I'm absolutely exhausted. I was out thursday night, friday night, and saturday night. Last night I got home at four, making it my latest night out this week. And yet, again, I'm not less depressed, I'm more depressed. Well, not entirely. I mean there were moments that I was having a great time, but most of the time even in the midst of such moments I have like this little voice in the back of my head keeping me from being fully in it. I can't go into more now. It's late and I need to do things. My apartment is an utter sty. The same thing every week end I just have enough time sunday night to make it acceptable, but then by the end of the week its crazy again. I need to go to grocery store. Another task that takes me three weeks to do. I'm always so tired. Where do all these other people get their energy from? Is this from the depression? I've always been on the tired side-but then I've spent most of my life in depressive spells. Am I lazy? Is it some sort of side effect from the chemo therapy (I've heard chemo can even be responsible from mood disorders)? Or maybe its the cancer itself that is responsible. Supposed there is research going now into neuroblastoma cells and how changing them can effect mood and therefore maybe help mood disorders. So maybe the cancer, being a neuroblastoma (or at least that is what I have been told) is responsible for my mood disorder. Maybe it was simply inherited from my father or was it "learned" from him? And even if I knew, even if I could know, would it help me? Would it make it possible for me to actually be a "normal person."

The other night J. tried to say I was a normal person. We both burst out laughing before he was finished saying it. He couldn't say it with a straight face, and I couldn't listen with a straight face. How did I get here? How di I become so crazy that even the idea of me being normal is ridiculous even to myself?

And how can Eric graduate without even a word to me? Watching Six Feet Under now makes me, in a way, more depressed. I see Nate at the funeral of his former fiancee and I think why can't eric pull that off? Why can't he just call and say "Well, thanks. I know it was hard and I was bastard to you, but without you I wouldn't have made it here." Is that so hard? Is that so difficult to actually acknowledge that I existed? That I was an important part of his life. I used to think of him as a ghost-someone who is dead only to me-but its the reverse-I'm the ghost-a transparent image of the girl I used to be-going through the motions of the life I used to have-there was a theory about ghosts at one time, I know because one of my research papers in middle school was on it and as you know I don't forget anything-there was a theory that hauntings were simply like tape recorded events, that some events are so traumatic and give off such energy that they actually become imprinted and they run over and over again (certainly some hauntings which involve ghosts re-enacting events without acknowledging the "present" seem to confirm this theory-but there are other hauntings where ghosts appear to not only see and acknowledge living people, but interact with them-there are also different types of haunting including the ever famous poltergeists) I feel like those ghosts trapped in the past, able to see the present, but able to act on it, paralyzed into re-enacting past events-and to him I am ghost-some flitting image-maybe not even that-maybe he doesn't remember at all. How sad-to be dead forgotten by the one I loved the most before I'm dead and forgotten.