unsent: Jun. 24, 2002 (9:21 am)

maybe, i can make myself feel better. because i need something. something else. and i felt better when i had books. i feel better when i think elsewhere. it's not escapism. it's simply not allowing my interests in literature and politics to be drowned out my my sorrow. and maybe, i don't need a physchiatrist.

[note to paul (which i will give him soon): maybe when i called youthe otherday i was lying to myself--pretending that i've changed enough to try to talk to you. i'm pretty sure i'm not right now. But i just want to think that once i feel better i will be able to be your friend without torturing us both. Because when i wasn't so das or so dependednt i enjoyed talking to you.

+ it's not your fault at all. it's my disorder]

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