It’s hard to know you’re going through life, and losing people along the way. Nothing serious… most times, you just drift apart. There’s no screaming, no arguments… no closure. Because, after a moment, you realize that you do miss them.

And you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Of course, I also miss the ability to eat a meal without obsessing about calories. I miss not having to take a handful of pills every day so that I can convince people that I’m doing okay.

I miss carefree.

I miss happy.

But, in all reality, who am I kidding? I can’t remember the last day that I didn’t feel the way I do now. It’s not so much depressed (and certainly not mania) as it is… numbness.

Listen: I’m in this new apartment.
I’m content. There’s something about paying your own rent, buying your own groceries, drinking your own wine, and watching your own television through your own cable and surfing your own internet on your own computer that just… well, it’s lonely as hell, but I feel really stable.

Soon, I’ll be out of Chicago. I’ve got six more months, and then I’m free.
I just keep trying to remind myself of that, over and over again.

And, I know… everyone hasn’t left me.
I know.