Scratch that. Danny has been added to the shit pile too.

Funny how when the shit hits the fan, it literally makes a mess of everything.

Stella's Goal: Stand my ground. Don't give in, don't let people make me feel inferior. My feelings are not wrong. They're valid in the context of the circumstances, and there is no right or wrong for that. Hold on...tight.

Ever feel like today may just be a good day to call it a life? I'm tired, but I don't have the guts for that the second time around. My heart physically hurts because I'm so unhappy. Danny was icing on the cake for the day.

Last night, I thought about jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. I could just fly up there, buy the next flight out. Take a taxi, ask the taxi to drop me off at the bridge, that I had a romantic meeting planned so the driver wouldn't suspect anything odd. Then, I actually toiled with the idea of how I would jump. Should I lay backwards, feet first straight up and down, head first, or lay forward with my head looking at the water. I settle on laying backwards, looking at the sky. I imagined my hands crossed in front of my chest, like a mummy. Slowly, I would close my eyes, and hopefully it wouldn't hurt. And that, my friends, is how I know I couldn't be able to go through with such a scheme. I'm afraid of the pain of fallling...nevermind the fact that I'll be dead.

Still working on that darn Opposition to Motion.