It’s been a pretty uneventful weekend. I don’t know what to type. I have all these things I want to say, but it’s like they are all tangled up and I can’t straighten them out. I am still on Cymbalta, but I want to quit. I can’t because when I go off of it for more than a couple of days I get dizzy. I made it up to a week, but ended up having to start it again. I’m such a failure, I can’t do anything right. You know what’s so pathetic, I want someone to hold me so much while I cry. I’ve never really had that, where someone would hold me while I cry. But at the same time, it would probably be too intense for me. Maybe it’s better being alone. None of my family knows about the depression, besides Erik and his aunt. I don’t want them to be disappointed in me. I was known as the strong one in the family. I don’t want my mom to know that everything started after her surgery, that I felt guilty because of it. It’s just better if I go through this alone. I can’t even be happy right. It’s my fault I’m like this, maybe I deserve to be like this. I really have no hope things will get better, maybe I should just stop trying.