sixteen.

I haven't written in so long here. I keep writing, but just not here.

A month ago from today it was two years since you asked me out. The day passed without a second thought. We've both grown so much since that day in late June. There are days that I regret it and days I don't.

I'm not much taller, my hair is still short, I still wear glasses, I've expirienced a little bit more life, I'm still hopelessly single, I've stopped wearing Converse (they just hurt so much), I've had a few chances to act, and I'm still biding my time. For what, you may ask? I'm not sure... But I know I'm waiting.

I turned 16 back in November, I don't drive all that often, but I enjoy it when I do. It's calming, being alone in the car, knowing that I have control over pretty much anything that happens.

I'm finally okay, there are occasional relapses but it's really rare. I don't want to die anymore, I want to find out what I'm waiting for. Sometimes I'm sad but it ends. I have really good friends, they love me and I love them, I'm not constantly afraid, more confident in myself.

That's all for now...