Road trips are effing expensive, which, granted, I knew, but it's an unfortunate situation regardless. I don't have an extra three hundred odd dollars, nor do I really even have three hundred. . . But yes, that's my Spring Break plan, road tripping to Canada with gm and his sister and her friends and such. I wish - what do I wish? I wish a lot of things. The actual written out expense plan that I recieved today was rather depressing. My mood reflects such tragedy accordingly.

Why wasn't I simply fortunate enough to be born rich, to parents who stayed married, to grow up a girl confident in herself, to be a complete and useful person, to do amazing things that change the world and to just be satisfied with what I have? I wouldn't say yearning, and most days I'm fine, but when I'm not, it's a vast and endless loss, somewhere deep inside that I don't even recognize the extent of.

A loud and lonely train whistle sounds in the distant blackness and I think, "how storybook appropriate."

It's not that I'm unhappy here or that I really wish things were that different, it's just the slightest bit of off that gets to me in an unending, ever present nagging sort of way. Unnatural?

No, just dissatisfied. Maybe it's depression when I realize how much happier I am in the sunlight, how brave I feel sometimes, and I compare it to the normal state of things and think, huh. How did that happen? I'm mopey in this diary. I think I just need to run away for a while. Be on my own. I don't know. I'm a commitment-phobe who wants everyone else to commit their selves to her and promise never to leave. I'm scared of abandonment, of letting someone love me because one day they'll go away. I'm too young right now to actually believe these things will last forever (what a horrible thing to say, and a large part of me would have it last forever, but that's a little bit too much earnesty to be respectable. be cool, lindsay, be cool).

I'm not even sure what I'm talking about.