I found out Evan is being divorced. A mutual friend has started working at Sears with me, and I talked to her about things. I can't help but feel glad, like there has been justice. This person who hurt me is now in pain over what hurt me. It doesn't sound like he wanted the divorce and he was always sensitive. I think about how much this much hurt him, and I just become glad.

He left me over a girl who's divorcing him; how Shakespearean.

I have a confession. I would tell myself I write on here for me, and because it helps. Honestly, though, I always felt like I was writing for someone else, like a particular person was reading this, waiting for me to post again. It's pathetic, but I guess it's how I coped with losing Alex, too.

I recently discovered there's a way on here to see when someone has viewed this blog, but no one has looked. I've been alone this whole time while trying to convince myself that I'm not.  I guess there's no escaping the reality of things even when you think you've come to term with it.

The signs are there. I've had plenty of chances to talk to and meet new people. I instinctively turned them all away without a second glance, and it's a cold feeling. When I write these things, I feel like I'm seeking attention, and I guess really, I am. I wrote these things telling myself someone was reading it and saying to themselves, "This poor soul."

I am stuck on 16, and I haven't really grown up in maturity. I still live in my head, and I become a meaner person on a weekly basis.

I would still like to move to Seattle, but I think there would be no grand restart. Wherever you go, your damage follows.