I feel...so empty.

I suppose I need to stop being depressed. But I can't help it.

For whatever reason, my old blog got thirty-seven page views yesterday. I haven't written on it in nearly three months, and yet it still gets more daily views than this blog does.

I went back and read through the comments on my last post on there. And I started crying again. Because everything came back to me, how awful that day was.

How awful every day still is.

I know I've got to "pick myself up" and "get over this," but how do I do that when I can't get any closure? My mind works in only one way: logic. And there was nothing logical about this.

I don't know how I'm going to survive at college. What happens if I wake up with a screaming nightmare while I'm there? (Here's what happens: I dream about Charlie, and something in the dream is so real, so vivid, that it seems like it's happening all over again, only from a much closer perspective, e.g., us in bed together and he spills the news. And then I wake up screaming, and I start sobbing, and I can't stop for about an hour or two.) What will my room mate think? What will the rest of the hall think? (Heck, I might even reach the third floor with this. [I live on the fourth.])

I've spent so much money attempting to get away from this. I've worked myself half to death to keep from thinking about him (it doesn't work). I've tried writing. I've tried reading. I've tried burning every single stupid picture of him that I own (that doesn't work, either). I've tried forgetting (that certainly doesn't work). I keep myself up so late at night that I fall asleep utterly exhausted, and I'm unable to dream. 

I don't dream about anything good any more, and if I somehow manage to, it's very rare and far-between. Usually, it's "nightmares" about Charlie. Oh, they're wonderful while I'm dreaming them, but when I wake up, they become nightmares that twist in my heart and make me feel sick.

When I wake up in the morning, I see the little "I'm Happy!" note that my friend Hunter wrote for me. I've stuck it on the footboard of my bed. I see it whenever I sit up in the morning. But I'm never happy.

I'm rarely happy.

I know it's bad to be this miserable. I know I shouldn't have placed all my love on this one guy, who swore up and down that he loved me, and he showed me. He told me that he wanted me near him, that he didn't want to lose me, that "you are the only thing keeping me sane during this." He was proud that I was standing near him. He told me that I was worth waiting for, and I told him I'd wait for him. And then that letter came and literally went back on everything he ever told me.

So yeah. 

No wonder I'm screwed up.

It's getting harder to put on a brave face and go to work (where I have to smile at customers, even if they're being dumb). It's getting harder to keep my feelings from my family. Hunter already knows that I'm quickly sinking into a deep pool of depression. And sometimes I don't know if I'll be able to float. Sometimes I don't want to float.

My birthday is on Monday. And all I'm going to be doing on that day is thinking about him, and how he made my last birthday beyond wonderful. (He gave me an out-of-this-world, absolutely knock-your-socks-off, beyond-passionate kiss on the bridge, under the meteor shower, on my birthday last year. It was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. And now look at me. I barely have the strength to get out of bed in the morning.)

And now I'm sobbing again.

I suppose I need to get some sleep. (I'm scared of sleeping. Is that a bad thing? I'm terrified of my dreams. If I even start dreaming, no matter which way it's going, I try and force myself to wake up. I don't want to dream at all, because I know most of them will turn out to be about him.)

This has been another sleepless, depressed rant. And I truly apologize for that. I know this isn't what you guys want to hear from me. You want to hear funny stories about the idiots at my work, and you want to read about my packing-for-college series. Instead, all I'm doing is creating long and depressing posts about how black my life is. (And I don't even have the right to do this. My life isn't all that bad, all things considered. Sure, my heart's been shattered beyond repair, but hey - at least I'm not dying of cancer or watching a close friend die...Oh, wait. I've seen that last one happen recently, to a friend of my parents'.)

I'll try to make happier posts.
I'll try.

No promises.