As I am writing this, I am in my mother's car, leaving the doctor's office, where I have actually prayed for a deadly illness before.

Today was a very interesting day.

With the absence of my definition of a good friend, I had a lot of thinking to catch up with.

As always, too many thoughts run through this tiny little head of mine than I can keep up with.

I was, however, able to bob a few curious things out of the bowl.

So now, I'd like to ask the audience a never-ending question:

What really is my definition of a good friend anymore?

I start to doubt many of the so-called friendships around me. I start to wonder if I still want a friend at all.

Being a slightly depressed person at times, I realize that there is no need to bring others down with me, whether they want to help or to join in on the atmosphere of misery I must give off.

I have decided to refuse to allow anyone to get too close too quickly ever again. I become way too easily obsessed with people anyway.

I have convinced myself that I will most likely die alone and lonely, which are NOT the same thing, so don't think I'm retarded.

Speaking of death…

I was later today, listening to some nice soft music in the waiting room of the doctor's office, reading the second book on death for this strike month /strike week so far, when I started again with the annoyance of losing myself in thought.

If I were to, right this moment, find out that I were to have only and exactly one more day to live,

Who would stay by my side?

[[Probably not yourself

Who would I want to stay with me?

And why?

Why would they want to,

Why would I want them to?

And truthfully, I almost burst into tears when a sudden realization came to me.

Want to know why?

Because I know that I will be sitting alone in a lonely room feeling, what else but, lonely

and why….why do I sometimes pray for my last day to come sooner?

A little quote from the book I've been reading:

"If you don't have the support and love and caring and concern that you get from a family, you don't have much at all. Love is so supremely important. As our great poet Auden said, 'Love each other or perish.' "

If I'm not feeling that support, that caring, that concern…what else am I to take from those that supposedly love me? What am I supposed to feel?

How much would I care of they were weeping [[or laughing at my deathbed?

Most importantly to everything you've just read,

Why do I care enough to wonder?