I'm starting to get depressed because of my health. My doctor offered a precription for anti-depressants to help me deal with all this but I said no.

My body just feels like it's not mine, I don't feel like I even belong here some days. Everything feels strange and foreign. I look at my arms and they seem similar to a block of wood. I touch it and it is oddly soft by what I see, even if my finger tips can't feel it.

I don't want to cry, I don't want to break down. Maybe I need to. Jesse was telling me last night that I am such a control freak that I may just worsen any symtoms of illness I have. He may be right but he may not be. A person feels they can only handle so much.

I feel ok for a while then something will always come up. It always happens. I don't feel that I will ever be free to breathe.

I don't even know if I want to write anymore. I just want to hold a pen in my hand for comfort.