Coffee and Cigarettes.

The nights are getting longer.

The lovely Ms. Collins and I sit outside at Starbucks, enjoy Pumpkin Spice lattes, and smoke Camel no. 9s. The longer, more elegant and time-consuming ones.

We talk about our lives and about how things used to be. I tell her how I can't talk to anyone because nobody understands. Well, if anyone does, Ariel would understand the best.

If only it could be like this all the time. Wednesday nights. 45 degrees. Coffee and cigarettes after shopping for canvases, paintbrushes, and charcoal. I wanted to buy all of the art supplies, and all of the colors.

We finish the night at her humble abode. We sing lots of songs together with the addition of Charles Lowery (Nick) and his fantastic guitar skills. We sing The Beatles, Pixies, The Dresden Dolls, Ariel plays some Rilo Kiley, and I give some input for songs to perform, like "Stupidity Tries" by Elliott Smith, and "Heartbeats" by Jose Gonzalez.

After an elegant evening, they drive me home. We discuss Halloween plans. The rest of the night isn't as exciting, but I saved Luna from a cat fight.

Next morning. Skip Pre-Calc... again. I've only gone once this week. I got a 100% on my A.W. Art History Exam. Go home. Sleep until my mom comes home.

Paranormal Activity. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It was fantastically creepy, I enjoyed it. Until the last 15 minutes when she becomes possessed. Micah is thrown into the camera and I scream and grab Ariel's arm. Then Katie comes and screams into the camera. And I scream again. Hyperventilation ensues. Nick and Ariel are laughing at me. I'm terrified yet laughing, so I start to cry a little bit. And I sit there still, holding onto her arm as they watch my reaction.

12 am. Drive back to Ariel's listening to the majestic Devendra Banhart. We walk to 7-11 for cigarettes and in my case, peach rings. On the way back, I notice my surroundings. Dead leaves cover the sidewalks of Wright. A tennis ball sits in a puddle. Leaves swirl with the wind. A man in a black trenchcoat walks by. I'm scared that demons are following me.

But they are. They're my own demons.

I saw the mental health counselor today. We talked for about two hours. He determined that I am an introvert and I don't belong here. I'm not crazy, and nothing is wrong with me. It's what has happened to me and been done that has caused me to be this way.

To feel unloved.
To feel unwanted.
To feel alone.
To feel inferior.
To feel unworthy.
To feel like an outcast.
To feel like I don't belong.

He's decided that I need to see a psychiatrist as soon as possible for an evaluation and assessment. He called Dr. Dillon. He said, "I have a very depressed young woman here with suicidal tendencies. She's a great kid, but she doesn't see it herself."

I had to promise to my mom that I will talk to her whenever I'm feeling suicidal. She thinks that I've only contemplated hanging myself. No. There's more.

Drowning. Stabbing myself. Pills. Hanging. Smashing into a semi-truck. Electrocution.

At least I should be getting better soon. I'm tired of not knowing who I really am and where I belong...

Ron (the counselor) said that my issues are deep down. Divorce, lack of attention, being ignored, lack of understanding, and my nature have all driven me to be this way. With, other factors, of course. Oy.

I need a vacation.