I find myself caring less as each day passes. All I can do is sigh and hope that this is all meant to be and I'll benefit from it somehow. It's not even a big deal. I just guess this means that he'll be working more now. I want to do what I want. I realise that I don't want anything from my list. It's a vain attempt to make myself feel better on the outside and not actually target the internal issue. In saying that, I don't want help. It is comforting to not do anything. I don't paint anymore. I don't sing. I don't see my friends. All friends I have harboured are now moving on and all I want to do is wave them off. But that feels okay for now. The only thing I'm worried about now is turning out like my mother. That is something I hope I never have to face. I may never know, often people can't face up to what they're really like. So just as long as I act fun-loving and less worried, less paranoid, less sarcastic and cut out the melodrama, I'll be fine. Less me. Damn, I have made this entry sound so dramatic. No. Silly me. I'm so silly sometimes. =P I feel much better now.