It's gotten harder and harder to write these updates, though I'm not sure why. Three major things have happened since I last wrote, almost two months ago: I moved, I cut my wrists a bit, and I got engaged.

I live a couple of blocks away from the University of Washington now, which is a really nice change; I can walk just about everywhere, and even if I can't, drives are much shorter. I love the apartment and CJ and I have had a really nice time here, though it would be nice if RF lived a bit closer.

I felt horrible one day, I don't remember exactly what triggered it, but I took a sharp blade to my wrists and score and cut them a bit. I don't know if I was actually trying to kill myself; I felt curious, for the most part. At any rate, I felt very guilty about it and told my doctor & therapist. They both were somewhat freaked out; my doctor put me on a new dosage of antidepressants which has made me incredibly tired and sleepy all the time, as well as terribly terribly forgetful.

CJ and I are getting married March 3.

I don't know if I'll be able to keep writing this anymore. I don't know—maybe something will happen that'll shine a light onto whatever it is that is wrong with me.