I don't really know what to say anymore. For the longest time, writing has been one of the few ways for me to actually delve into what's going on with me. It's been kind of cathartic, putting stuff out there so I don't need to deal with it in my head all the time. But on my way home today I didn't see the point of writing about the stuff that's been going on with me, the stuff that's swimming in my head, drowning my voice. It doesn't matter what I write because it doesn't change anything. I'm still as neurotic and self-doubting and hopeless as I ever was, so what's the point?