March 3rd.

A risk I'm willing to take.

Listening to: Rich in Promise - July Morning.
Mood: Inexplicably giddy.

First off, I am an idiot. A HUGE idiot.
But I'm enjoying this far too much. It's nice to actually LIVE for once instead of just worrying. It's nice to just take the plunge and do things.

I've been busy. Driving, shopping, spending time with people, reading, watching FAR too much of the Sci Fi channel (I'm now quite addicted to Buffy, Charmed and Stargate SG1; shows I vowed never to get into.), and drinking rather a lot of tea.
People have started coming to me for advice. Finally. After all this time of being the one to spill her problems all over her closest friends, I'm the rock they lean on. Now, I know I'm not the only person my friends use for support. But it's nice to be one, at least, for once.

Doesn't totally stop me feeling worthless, but it helps. And any help is good in this ongoing battle against... Well, whatever the fuck is wrong with me.

Which reminds me. I've been diagnosed.
Depression.
It's official. And I'm strangely happy at the news. I guess I'm just glad that I know now, and we can do something about it.
I probably need to call my dad tonight and try and figure out some of this doctor business.
Lately I feel like I've been in waiting rooms most of the time. Not just literal ones. metaphorical ones, too.
Doctor's offices. Centrelink waiting rooms. Waiting for someone to call, to text, to reply. Waiting for the hours to pass. Waiting for someone to arrive, to leave.
It's not so bad, I suppose. Better than being overwhelmed.

Although, some things are overwhelming me... In a good way.
They shouldn't. But they do.
(Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot...)

I turn 18 in two months. It's kind of massive for me.
My whole life, a lot of the questions I've asked my parents have been answered with "When you're 18." and now, I'm nearly there.
But what does it mean, really?
I can drink. Smoke. Get a tattoo.
I'm legally an adult.
But am I physically? Emotionally?
I don't know yet. but I'm getting there. Even in the past month I've made a lot of progress.
I'm proud of myself. I wish you'd be proud of me. Or even just notice.
Now to decide what tattoo to get. Or body part to shove metal through. Nose, I think first. Then maybe an industrial through my ear.
Even if I haven't grown up yet, I'm starting to enjoy the process...

This weekend might possibly be the most epic weekend ever.
AMANDA.
FUCKING.
PALMER.
And while I probably won't get to meet her, one can dream, right? And besides, just to be seeing her in concert is fucking awesome. The woman's my hero. Heroine? Both. She's gotten me through a lot.
And I know I'll cry if/when she plays Astronaut.

What can I say? I'm an idiot.