I'm really sad that it took losing Tango to start journaling again. God. Everytime I write that, I cry. It's funny. I'll have long periods of time where I'll feel like I'm perfectly fine, and then something small and insignificant will happen and I'll lose it and start. crying all over again. I still have his bed on the floor. I refuse to move it. I physically can't. That was his place. His security spot. I didn't even have to be back here for him to want to lay on it. Of course, the dog was more spoiled than I've ever been. I made him a bed out of soft material, then I gave him a couple of blankets to nest up, a feather pillow that he adored and that is so fat and fluffy he could just sink into, and then a normal pillow. And when the weather was cold, I'd turn on the space heater for him and set it behind his bed. He would place his little butt right in front of it before I moved his bed by it. And he use to tell me to turn it on for him. He'd come over to where I was sitting and lead me back to my room then sit in front of the heater. Once I turned it on, he'd lay down and sleep. He'd wake me up to do that too. He use to ask for pain medicine, too. He knew where we kept it and he'd lead me over to that cabinet and do his little "I'm so excited and cute that you have to give me what I want" dance. I know he was after that and not treats, because he had to bypass the pantry, where he would go if he wanted treats, and go to that cabinet. He was such a smart boy.

God I miss him so much. I'm ready for my heart to stop hurting.

Bridgeway is hiring again. If I could find out whether or not my old boss was there, I'd jump at the chance to go back. If she wasn't there that is. I don't want to start putting up with her bullshit again. But man did I love that job.

I've been sequestering myself in my room. I know it's not healthy, but I can't help it. I'm so tired all the time, and leaving the house is so HARD. It's just easier to...not go. To just lay here and not worry about getting up. I don't smile very much anymore. I don't laugh much anymore. And I hardly speak to anyone when I'm home. I haven't been like this for a long, long time. I just don't have the heart, or the energy, to bother anymore. Sometimes I miss having my dad tell me to shut up, but mostly, I just don't care. Oh, out in public I can respond and pretend everything is fine. I don't need the world getting scared of me again because of my depression. But at home, where I don't have to care...I just don't. Why bother?

A lot of people use pets as therapy for their depression and whatnot. I think unconciously, Tango and I worked that out together. He gave me a reason to move when I felt so boggeHe gwn that the idea of it made me ill. He didn't push me or come across harsh the way my parents tend to do, but he demanded my attention. He gave me something else to focus on when I really needed it. I didn't truly realize how much I relied on that dog until I lost him. He really aided in pulling me out of my slumps. He was so much more helpful that people ever are. With people, you can tell what they're up to when they talk to you. They have a false sort of forced cheerfulness to their tone, or their tone will have a light, airy quality to it. They look at you differently. I never had to worry about that with him. I could vent everything to him without worrying that smoeone would freak out and think I was going to kill myself. Most people associate depression and suicide and can't understand that not all depressed people feel the need to take that road. I really hope that one day I can recover from that stupid fuck up of a college and what they did to me. I really, really do. I don't get upset about it unless I talk/think about it. I suppose that's normal though, after what they did. You know, from sixth grade on I did not have a positive school experience. Middle school was hell, high school was slightly less hellish, but it had it's moments, and college...well...I haven't even completed an associates degree, I've had bad luck with schools.

I'm starting to realize how much he helped me with my depression, just by being there and by letting me hold him, cry on him, talk to him and by his needing me and wanting me to do things for him. It made a huge difference in my life. He gave me something that I could never give myself. And I have no idea how to make anyone understand this, since most people aren't so codependent on their pets.

After he died, I was drying his body off with a towel so we could bury him. I just sort of cradled him for a minute while he was wrapped in a towel. My mom said "Don't get weird about this". I hardly see how it was weird, but maybe, because he was "just a dog" not everyone sees it that way. How do you make people understand how crucial something like a dog can be to your life? How do you make them understand that they can provide more than therapy or medication ever can on their own? I'm not eloquent enough to ever verbally convey that. I'm a terrible speaker. My mind works faster than my tongue and it comes out all wrong. Add in the human element, and it makes for a terrible mess. I probably sound crazy to a lot of people. I can't let them into my head to feel what it feels like, or to experience the difference it can make to have something NEED you when you feel like the most needless being on the planet. It's huge to have something that needs you when the rest of the world doesn't.

But to try and say that to someone, face to face, without feeling foolish? That's a hurdle that's so hard to jump, I don't know if I ever will be able to. It's something I've just now been able to explain to myself. It was a revelation I think I've always somewhat known somewhere in the back of my mind but never fully acknowledged. It's shocking to openly realize something like that. He truly was my lifeline. I owe him far more than I'll ever be able to say.

As you can see by my previous entry, Christmas is a rather hard time of year for me. I always spend it crying and falling into a pit of melancholy.It's not that I don't enjoy it, because Christmas is seriously my most favorite time of the year, but it brings home the things that aren't right, and the people that I miss more clearly than ever.

My parents are starting to notice, and I don't like that. I never, EVER turn to anyone when I get like this, because all it does is scare people. I tried once. Iwas 19. And I was kicked out of college because no one would truly listen to me. That was the last time I ever completely opened up and cried to someone who was not my therapist. It's been nearly 5 years. For someone like me, that's a really, really long time. I'm sure you guys have noticed how open I am. But the thing is, I'm only this open to you guys. Because I know you can't use this to hurt me, I know you can't spread this to people I know, because I feel safe. I may not always be safe here, but while I am, I'm going to use it. So, in a way, I trust you guys with my inner most self. Not something I do lightly.

I have a dilemma though. I trust Justin a great deal. I'm more comfortable with Justin than I am with a great many people.We've a very comfortable relationship, to the point of having been asked more than once if we were dating. During Relatively Speaking, he was referred to as my other half. We love eachother. And because of that, I am desperately wanting to talk to him. Wanting him to hug me while I cry, because his hugs make me feel better. Wanting him to sit and listen and then to say something stupid like he usually does, because it makes me smile. He makes me feel better when I get like this, he's like my sanity. It's a very uncomfortable realization, because I haven't wanted to make myself vulnerable to someone for a long, long, long, long time. Before that time in college, I was 13 the last time I opened up to someone. That also bit me in the ass. I haven['t had good experiences trying to open up to people. But I know he won't hurt me. He's seen me cry. He can tell when I'm down. It worries him, and he tells me as much, and so now I'm scared.

I tried reaching out to him earlier this week. We made plans to go shopping on wednesday. Shopping was merely a ruse for me to get out of the house so I could cry on him. *sigh* he didn't realize this because he is not clarvoyant, and invited someone along. This made me cry, and so I ended up calling him up, bawling my eyes out and told him to just go ahead and shop and I'd talk to him later. I still had to go shopping though, so I went, tear streaked and sniffling, and did my thing, very quickly. Sadly, he saw me at the mall. Awkward much? Oh, yes. So I called him and told him I wasn't trying to avoid him, I just really didn't want to embarrass him in front of his friend by crying like a fool. I don't know this person very well, and crying makes me so vulnerable, because I've started to see it as being weak. This is what happens when you grow up with parents who tell you to stop crying every time you cried. It's not their fault, they didn't really understand. they still don't but never mind.

So I've been trying since then, and he's not gotten back to me. I've called, I've text messaged him, I've left voice mail. I think I made him mad. And that wasn't my intent. But he won't let me explain. This is just so damn personal, and so damn hard, I can't do it in front of just anyone. And to be honest, I feel terrible that my stupid heart has chosen him to be the one I trust, because I wouldn't wish this burden on anyone. It's not easy, trying to deal with me. I know this. But for some reason, I've got my heart set on a hug and a cry. Because, honestly, it's what I really need when I get like this. I've tried getting it from my parents but it doesn't have the same comforting feel his hugs do. Probably because he doesn't mind my constant touching. I'm very touchy and affectionate. My family isn't, but Justin puts up with it. Even encourages it. And I love feeling like I have someone I can be that way with.That's what I need. I need to spill my guts, talk about my grandma, get a very comforting hug and to hear something silly that will make me sniffle, giggle a bit, and generally feel better.

But I'm afraid I've scared him now, just like I scare everyone else. I'm not dangerous, not contagious,but people sure seem to think so. I'm so frustrated, because in my mind, having him hold me while I cry makes me feel so much better, but I can't get the reality. Because I'm scary. Because I made him mad because I can't explain myself over the phone. I'm a horrible phone person, I hate talking on the phone. It's so cold, there's nothing personal about it to me, and I get so damn distracted when I'm on the phone. I just need to explain. I told him in a voice mail that I needed to apologize and explain myself to him, that I wasn't being fair, but he won't answer me.

I'm afraid I've lent my heart out, only to have it returned once again with a knife through it. I don't want my trust in him to be misplaced. I really had a good feeling about this, and I think I was just being a hopeful fool. It's my downfall really, no matter how many times people cut me down, I get right back up and practically beg for more.

I just need a cry, a hug and to listen to him be stupid. And then I'll feel so much better. It's amazing how good I feel around him. I'm free to be me. All it takes is a visit a week to keep me going. I'm kind of pathetic, but he works better than my medication does. And I don't know how to make him understand that when he won't talk to me or see me.

I've cried myself to sleep every night this week. Tonight will be no acception now.

Argh, it's hit me. That itchy-must-do-something-drastic-and-outrageous-or-I'll-burst feeling. Usually, I go for my hair, but I can't do that with a show coming up. I have no outlet for this and it's bringing me nearly to tears of frustration. I want to explode creatively, but I feel like I have so many ideas running through me at once that if I try to release one, they'll all try and pour out of me at the same time and in the end, nothing will happen but a big creative blockage and much frustration. And not having my computer makes it so I don't have any of my previous stuff to work on, and I don't have my photoshop either. It's just devastating because I'm desperate for a release that won't ever come. It's like I've got a spring in me and it's been wound too tightly. Just....ugh, I don't know.

Insurance is 200 dollars a MONTH. I hate myself for that, because I hate being such a burden on my parents. I would give anything to be able to go back in time so I could not take a break from school. I'm going to be 26 before I have a bachelor's degree. 26....god, what am I going to do? My parent's can't be responsible for me for 3 more years. But if I'm going to be able to do what I love, they're going to have to. Or I'm going to have to just drop out of school and forget about ever finishing. It's not like I'm ever going to BE anything or anyone. Just some stupid podunk girl stuck in the middle of nowhere with nowhere to go and no one that'll even realize she's there. Except her parent's but only because she's too much of a loser to be able to take care of herself.

I absolutely hate having to ask for money. But I have no choice. A weekend job has been discussed, but that'll mean I'll be working seven days a week, school five days a week, rehearsing a lot of that time as well. I couldn't deal with that. I feel like the biggest loser on the face of the earth. Show's always make that feeling much more prominent. How? Because at the stage door, the other people on the cast and crew usually have a group of people that have come for them....for the four shows I've been involved with, not a single person has shown up for me. Oh, my parent's have seen 2 of them, but they never tell me when they are coming, and beat it immediately. And, really, it doesn't matter, that isn't the point of the whole thing, it's just...why do I always end up so isolated? Do I do something or say something? I don't understand why I've been so isolated from everyone all my life. Maybe I'm just tired, I don't know. But I just feel out of place. Even at my job I feel out of place. I'm just in the way. And on top of the weekly cleaning list, the names of all the teachers in the room but mine are listed. I ignored it last week, played it off like it was funny this week, but still...I was the first fucking person in that room. The day that building opened, last April 3rd, I was the first teacher in that room, and I feel ousted. I guess maybe it's time to move on, but I would miss my babies so much if I did. The 8 month old crawls across the room when she sees me with a big grin on her face so I'll pick her up, and when I do she gives me the tightest hug. When her mom comes, she'll even reach over from her mom for me to hold her, and has even let her walk out of the room as if she was leaving without so much as the bat of an eye. All my babies are that way. But I can't make ends meet and I can't keep on like this. But leaving...ugh. It's so confusing.

The Ballad of Sweeney Todd actually made me feel much better. I haven't heard that in so long, since I lost my computer, since it was all on there. I just had to buy The Ballad of Sweeney Todd on my dads, I missed it.

In all my previous plans, I had imagined I'd be done with school by now. And it's to the point where I have to take 3 classes over the summer to even think of being done with just the first two years by the spring semester. How did I fuck myself up so much?

I wish I could go see my therapist, but I can't afford it. And I'm not asking for money to do so. It would be 90 bucks a month just for medicine and doctors if I saw him just once a month. It's all so damn expensive. And all he'd say is take a shitty weekend job. I just couldn't tolerate taking a shitty assed job on top of everything else. Things get intense enough with just one job, school and theater. I just don't know how to make this better.