This year I think I may have outdone myself. There's one gift that I went through so much trouble to get that you'd think I was a miracle worker. I'm not trying to sound egotisticle, but I am proud of myself for being able to think of what would make this person happy.

New year's is coming up. Like my birthday, I always get a little depressed. I reflect at what's happened over the course of the last 365 days and try to come up with some things I've accomplished. Things that really matter. I haven't done anything that I would consider to mean anything in the grand scheme of life.
I wish I could afford to not live at home and still go to school. Then I would have a sence of accomplishment. That I was doing it for myself. Instead, I can't get student loans, I'm stuck in suburban hell, and I'm lonely. I think I've become so concerned with making other people happy that I don't even know what would make me happy anymore.