Dear Self, It has indeed been a while since I wrote in my diary, and that is something that bothers me. Chronicling my life is something that I've always taken seriously, and for the first time in my life over the last eight or nine months, that seems to have gone by the wayside. So I'm taking the time now to write my feelings, however boring they may be, as the time gone by is nagging at the back of my mind. To create is to feel, is to love, is to live. My soul has been screaming to be let free for quite some time. I've not written for a long while, and the writer within me is starting to pace. It isn't a lack of time, or devotion most certainly. It's simply the lack of inspiration that keeps me from doing what I was put on this earth to do. Being a writer is an extremely important job. When I don't write, it feels like the life in me, the light in me, is slowly fading out and I'm beginning to disappear. Truth be told, I'm writing this now, but I'm afraid it isn't quite the same thing. I'm sure the characters in my book are standing and tapping their feet at me, nonchalant encouragement for me to continue on with their lives. But in a matter of weeks, it seems, some of them have become strangers to me. Try as I may to get reacquainted, their faces elude me. The only thing that worries me more than their unfamiliarity is how I'm going to continue the story. How can I write about the characters when it feels like I don't know them anymore? They are the most important part of a book. After all, there is a person behind every story. The people in mine are extremely important, and it feels as though I've let them all down. I really ought to be ashamed of myself for it, too. Aside from the writing, my life seems to be coming along quite decently. The relationships I have with my boyfriend, friends and family are flourishing and at an extremely good state, though most of my close friends are either moving or have decided to joined the armed forces. Chris is going to Iraq at the end of June. This makes me worry for him, considering he's one of my closest friends. The guy has become like a brother to me in the four years I've known him. If anything happened to him, I'd be completely heartbroken. There are things that I should say to people when they're close, and my thoughts are clear. I never speak my mind because I'm so shy, and the only time I do, it's either in an MSWord document or a spiral notebook and it never gets out to the people that should see it. The matters of Chris and I are included in that equation. I just hope he knows how much he means to me, and how much it mattered that he was there for me when I needed a friend. I miss him. The last time I told him that, he never said it back. He always says it back. Always. Maybe he just doesn't care that much. Maybe he just doesn't want to show that he does. I don't know. I wish I could take myself back to March of last year sometimes, when him and I were still really close as far as distance is concerned and we used to hang out all the time. Spend hours just laughing about stupid things that made no sense. It was funnier because we were there together. It was like someone actually GOT me. Not that I'm an enigma or anything like that, but sometimes people just don't get me. My own parents don't get me sometimes, but that's just normal, I think. Most teenagers complain about that. Good Lord, I'm fitting in with the norm...shame on me. I don't know. It seems like the little things that were so big in my life drifted away so quick. I have a lot of important little things in my life now, but there are times that it makes me wish some of the older ones would come back, you know? Childish feelings coming 'round, yet again. Oh well...time for me to sleep. Have an early day tomorrow, so I hear. Besides, it would do my brain some good to rest. Until next time, I bid thee adieu. All my love. -Summer, age 17