Unique New York

Just like a regular woman, only crankier.

Saturday, April 16, 2005


What a depressing ass post that was.

I am no longer scaling the side of the building, if anyone cares. I am back, and safely indoors. But I'd rather confront my feelings than hide them. I'd rather be openly hurt than betray my own emotions.

If anyone has any sage advice to help me stay motivated to get through this detour in solitary confinement, I'm all ears.

Friday, April 15, 2005

Reach out and touch someone

I feel so lonely.

I feel like every exercise in meeting people and making friends has panned out. I moved here to start my education, not trade my life in for isolation. I am so upset right now, and I don't have anyone I can call.

I don't know what to do.

I hate myself this way. I hate being sick, and I hate the weakness. I hate the lack of mental clarity, and I hate how being alone has skewed my judgement in a horribly wrong direction.

The worst of this is, that even if I had friends, the things that happen with them are nothing compared to the comfort I get from Jon, and he isn't here. Having a good time with friends is a poor substitute for that kind of solace, and I don't have that either. I have me, who I hate.

If I would have known what moving here would mean, I never would have done it. This is something I regret that I am locked in to. This is not exciting, or glamorous, or poignant. It is a hellhole of my own creation. I motivated my own roommate so much that she moved out. I am alone with all of my thoughts, with a practically absent family, and a life that I would love to come home to in Denver, but I can't because I can't survive. This is the most painful experience. At least when the shit was hitting the fan with Josh, I had my family.

Monday, April 11, 2005


They never EVER talk to me except to criticize. My neighbors stopped me to tell me to pick up after my dogs. I don't know who doesn't pick up after their dogs in the neighborhood, but it's not me. I politely told the neighbor that I ALWAYS pick up after my dog. They never talk to me; in the past eight months, I could no more tell you my neighbor's names than the man in the moon. They talk to me this one time, and it's because they think I left crap all over the sidewalk.