For the first time in well over a year, I am actually hungry. Hungry enough to want to eat until my mouth is tired... and there is no nausea. I don't know what I did to get rid of it, but I've celebrated all weekend by eating mass amounts of food... and it's amazing.

Wow... I haven't heard from you in months, and that's it? Ouch. I guess I'm not easily missed.

I am constantly disappointing myself.

I'm now 19 years old. As birthdays usually go, this one is no different. The concept of celebrating a birthday is one that I've never been able to fully grasp. Seems narcissistic, at times, to celebrate your own life, when there are thousands of people doing the same thing that same day and they think they're just as unique as you do. I feel no different, and I guess that's okay. That's normal. These are things that I've long ago accepted. But, this is the first birthday during which I haven't heard from her; it's one of the few things about my birthday that I've always looked forward to. ...No call, with her singing tone-deafedly on the other end. No facebook comments or messages or stupid e-cards. No mail.

The one person in the world that I wanted to hear from on my birthday won't say a thing. I don't know why that should hurt today more than any other day, but it does.

While at work today, I was moping and I might have realized just why that was so. I think I'm creatively under-stimulated— deprived, if you will. When I was younger, I was much more artsy. I played a few instruments. I drew a lot more than I do now. I wrote more. Lately, I haven't had nearly enough time to breathe, let alone do these things solely for pleasure, but I'm finding that I need these things in my life. Engineering school, at this fundamental point, is somewhat stifling to my imagination; I'm sure that it will get better... I hope. Until then, I need something to be proud of. I need creative accomplishments... or at least a stupid hobby. I want to learn to knit or crochet. To paint. I wish I could make gifts for my friends and family... I want to play the piano; that's something I've always thought I could be good at that. Maybe pick up the flute or acoustic again, like I used to so often do. I want to become an avid runner. Learn to do yoga, or tai chi. I want to keep a garden... or at least keep a plant without killing it. I want to read more; read every book I keep eying at the library, read books that have been recommended to me for years, read things that will surprise me, disturb me, enthrall me. I want to volunteer at animal shelters like I used to. I want five cats. I want someone to love and love me.

So, contrary to what I posted earlier, I guess I do know what I want. I don't know if I'm going for what I want anymore... I really need to think about it and I'll admit that I've avoided it. I've avoided a lot of things and a lot of thoughts and it needs to stop.

I'm becoming more and more certain that I've made the wrong decision. I'm doing miserably in a class that's very essential to my major. I don't know what I want anymore, but I don't suppose I ever really did.

I feel extremely useless.

Wow. I love the Velvet Underground... so... much.

Classes tomorrow, once again. The quickness of college never ceases to surprise me... and it's making me feel so old.

I'm so many things I wish I weren't. I'm dependent. Easily frustrated. It takes just about nothing to make me cry. I'm too easily disgusted with myself.

It's been a while since I've felt this alone. I guess movies like "Closer" don't really help the feeling.

I miss you.