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Hi. I'm working on getting my seals back, but it looks like that'll never happen. I'm never on the computer enough to get enough gold for 'em, even with a new computer. I got the person who fixes my family's VAIO to give me a computer with Limewire on it, so now I'm listening to .59 from DDR.
I'm seeing a social worker now every Wednesday during school and Fridays after school. I have a symptom known as "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder". It's a symptom common with WWII and Viet Nam fighters, recollecting on a bad experience that they have experienced.
I don't see, let alone hear from, my best friend Stacy anymore due to the fact she no longer has the internet as a resource and that she has play practice every day for God knows how long. Hopefully soon we'll be able to get together and celebrate my 16th. God, now more than ever I really wish Stacy was here . . .

My social worker says that it's not good for me to keep wishing that Stacy was/is here and to stop reaching out for help from David, my boyfriend. I can't help it though . . . I just feel that I can literally talk to them about anything. David because he loves me, and Stacy because she's experienced this sort of thing personally and she has the best advice for me that anyone can really provide for me. No offense to Anna, Kevin, Trend or anyone else, but that's how I feel. And if you (Anna) get offended in any way/shape/form, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I can't go to you about this, but the fact of the matter is, well, you really don't understand me. At all. Stacy does. You really don't fully grasp that one situation has changed who I am, and I probably will stay this way for a very long time; probably for the rest of my life.

David, I know that me changing like this is difficult, expecially on you. I just hope that you can bear with me through this time of difficulty with me and I hope that you'll be there to help me through. I love you and hope that we will be with each other for as long as I can imagine.

It's getting late. I'll probably write later. I'm thinking about making this my journal . . . but I'm still thinking.