Seventh Day.

I'm going to scream. At the top of my lungs.

This will probably be the whiniest blog I will ever write. I'm warning you now. Turn back if you must.

This whole celibacy thing is supposed to make me stronger. So far, it's not working. In fact, all it has made me wonder is if TRUE friends really exist, or if it's all just some lame fairy tale that the people that say that they are there for you really will be when you're sick, dying or bawling your eyes out.

I can count on ONE hand how many TRUE friends I have- and that's freaking pathetic. Did I do something wrong? I don't THINK so- I mean, how many times have I baked cookies and lasagna and made soup for sick friends- how many times have I let people cry on my shoulder and how many times have I saved you from hurting yourself?

Last night, I bawled my eyes out. I have lost one of my friends- and now, I'm wondering if he was even a friend to begin with. If he cared about me, he wouldn't be so selfish. I cant count how many times he's cried to me, I've made him dinner when he was sick or upset, that we've talked things out, held each other, and he hurt me. He hurt me so, so, so, so bad. And he doesnt care. So tell me, should I even have considered him a friend to begin with? Or should I add him to the list of people that have used and abused me, who have used me for my warmth, my smile, my cooking, my affection, my love- and then turned around and left me.

Tomorrow's my appointment. At this point, I don't even care what those tests say. I don't care. Call me dramatic, call me a bitch, I don't care. I'm done. I'm done.