(I think in parentheses).

I'm increasingly convinced that I will suffer from depression my entire life. Not severe depression, but mild after thoughts from when I was severely depressed a few years ago. It will surface at inopportune times, like while I'm making love once I'm married (One time it hit while I was making out with this boy a few summers ago. Luckily he loved me, so he only comforted me), or when I move to new places. I'm fairly sure I'll suffer from postpartum depression when I have kids (all the more reason to continue my plans to adopt), and despite my beliefs on the afterlife, I'll miss my parents, once they die, profusely. I don't think I'm special in any of this. Everyone goes through these things. Everyone has a hard time being away from the people they love. Everyone has had their heart broken. Everybody hurts, sometimes. (Yes! I did that thing).

But really. Since I've been back from California (I was only there for five days, for crying out loud), I've had a pain in my heart. I can't shake it. I'm on the verge of tears half the time, and I've started counting the weeks til I leave again. I did this when I first arrived in New York, but it stopped altogether probably two weeks afterward. I'm counting on that again. I don't like being unhappy in New York. I don't like being unhappy ever.

Today after my walk and nap in Central Park, I walked down 72nd to purchase a cupcake at my favorite cupcakery, Buttercup (it became my favorite today). A few storefronts down from Buttercup was a young girl, probably ten, who looked a lot like my old neighbor and best friend Jenny Wille when she was that age. The girl was playing some very sad melodies on her very sad-looking violin, with a pitiful glittered sign balancing precariously in her violin case. I had to hit the perfect angle because of all the glitter, but it read, "HELP PRESERVE THE RAINFOREST" in those horrible block letters all children are enamored with. (Block letters and bubble letters). Perhaps it was because I was already emotional, but my sunglass-covered eyes filled with tears as I placed a dollar deep in her violin case. There are few things as touching to me as 1: children being sincere, 2: people loving the Earth, 3: music, and 4: a sincere child playing a musical instrument on behalf of the Earth.

Today I found Gramercy Park near my work. It is so gorgeous, but you have to have a key to get inside. What good is a beautiful thing if people can't enjoy it, or if only rich people can enjoy it? Don't they enjoy enough already?

Last night I saw the film "Let's Get Lost," a documentary made in 1987 about Chet Baker. He is a different person to me now. Then I met up with my old friend Lauren from high school. She is so great. I really like that girl.

I have to go now. I want to finish writing, but I'll have to do it later.