Hello again, my only friend. I wish I could tell the world all that I can tell you. But I know that once I share my truth, my time will come to an end. So thank you, dear diary, thank you for listening to me every time I break down, and thank you so much, my tear-absorbent friend, for giving me the space to be me.

Today this girl named Clairise, who thinks that we are close, poured out to me all of her worries. She says that she is at a strange point in her life, she wishes that I could understand. She says that everything around her is changing and that she doesn't know who she is. I nodded nervously as she spoke, scared that she will find out I'm a fraud. She didn't I guess, I'm still here. I think she thought I was empathizing with her, she told me how appreciative of me she was, that she could confide in me, that I could listen to her.

I had therapy this past Tuesday, Dr. Stephens says that I could do with opening up more, he says that my depression hasn't gotten worse, but it surely hasn't gotten better. I agree with him. He says that if I socialized and built up a group of friends that support me, then I would be set. I wish that were an option. Don't get me wrong, dear diary, it's not that I dislike people, I love them so much, and small talk is great. But small talk is hollow it goes cold when you cling onto it for so long. I don't dare get any closer though, I can get by with only being friends with you, dear diary.

I need to go, but thank you for holding close to you everything I say, and thank you once again, dear friend.