For the first time in a long while, I'm going to write an entry that's actually about something, and not a big mash of updates in my life. And I'm going to make sense about it too. And if I offend anyone, I really won't care.

Sometimes I get angry with God. Sometimes I wonder why the friends we make are never the friends we keep. Why people change so drastically in such a short space of time. Why there are friends who are friends when you do them favours. Why they see you unhappy, ask if you're all right, and never speak to you again. What it is that poisons our hearts against those that we truly love, makes us hate them for no reason at all.

It's difficult when the people who surround you, the people who protect you from the attacks you receive every day, the people who save you from yourself, who pull you off the stupid girl you're clawing at to keep you from killing her, dwindle down to one. Clinging onto that one for dear life could have its consequences, couldn't it? Perhaps you could suffocate each other. Then it'd really be down to nothing after all.

You can watch someone you love in pain, see her change, see her take down the pictures of her favourite band, see her disappearing when she should be there, see her sinking her head into the arms of other people. All around you you're hearing the voices of people talking, people who know exactly what's going on. So you wonder why you don't have a clue. Try to sit next to her, to be nice, and she grabs your arm and moves you away. Try to ask her "Why do you hate me so much?" and the words stick right there in your throat, feeling like a nice acidic lump up from your stomach, just waiting to come out through your mouth.

Then it's Carnival. The season for festivity, for vulgarity, for unity with a pack of guntas. Your hands are caked with glitter that flashes blindingly in the sunlight that shines just for the now. From the upper window you can watch a pulsating wave of humanity acting like they've caught the jumbie. They dance, they sing, they jump, they go down the road. All you can do to join in the elation is sprinkle silver glitter on their heads from the window. You sigh, wishing you knew what it was like to be like everybody else.

You can find someone who seems like a near-perfect counter to your personality. You love to listen to him talk; lying with your eyes closed, you immerse yourself in an intriguing story, thinking to yourself, "Yes." It's all good. A good person. So why, after you do him a good turn, does he ignore you for the rest of the day? You watch him go by, but it's like he's looking right through you. And you feel bold and silly for thinking like that. After all, who are you to impose yourself on someone like that? Are you even friends?

You're sitting alone with a glaring white jelly doughnut in front of you. It's become the same thing every day now. Ten minutes of bonding with a jelly doughnut, and not a soul else. People are milling about but for some reason, they just don't notice you and your doughnut together having a good time. You're sipping on a Choc-Nut because they didn't have any Nesquik and staring around for a newspaper. These days, you don't read or watch anything but the news.

Later in the day you're sitting in the grass in front of the statue of the Virgin, wondering why the fountains are never on anymore. You always used to love the fountains when you were younger, but somehow they just stopped. Now the pool is empty and sad-looking. Just like you. Two younger girls walk up to you, bringing a crowd as they approach. They tell you that they come in peace. Something inside you stings. No one wants to be treated like an alien. Frustrated, you say bye-bye to the wasp and the ladybug and walk away.

Today that person looks at you and asks if you're all right. You reply affirmatively, and you think to yourself, those are the only words you're going to say to me today, aren't they?

You're right.

You don't know what to do, so you cry. You sneak into the shower at the end of the row and stand under the head, trying to turn it on, wondering what it would be like to walk around in a soaked uniform. The thing refuses to budge, though, so the only soaking you get is on your face. After a while you give up. Time to keep fighting.

You sigh and smile, thinking, "It's only Monday. Soon it'll be okay."

The nights are getting colder.