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You know those animated commercials with that weird, bean-shaped creature that hops along in its cartoon world, and gets the little storm-cloud over it which symbolizes depression? The commercials for the antidepressant Zoloft?

Well, my friends, I seem to be that little bean-shaped creature, because today the doctor put me on that medication.

I'm kinda worried because my friend just told me that he took it last year and he hated it, because it made him "a different person." But it's different for everyone, I'm told, so maybe it'll help. I dunno.

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strange details.

I know this is gonna sound kinda pathetic, but I'm starting to feel like I'll go through withdrawal if I don't visit this site and post everyday.

I think I should let everyone know that all your blogs are really fun to read. Not that I've read everyone's. But I like the ones I've read.

I've always liked to read the inane details of other people's lives, just because they're different from my own.

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What would you do?

What would you do
If there was a girl
Who was the best thing you'd ever seen
Like every birthday present
And every Christmas tree
You'd ever seen?

What if your lust for her was as pure as gold?

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First Girl

Someone responded to an earlier post, saying they wanted to hear the "story" I'd alluded to earlier. This is it.
(*Names changed to protect the mercilessly beautiful.)

The new girl slid into the desk next to mine. I didn’t even try not to stare. I’ve always been a shy person, more guarded than most, but something about her made my mouth react faster than my brain.
“Wow, you look… cool,

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Bedroom of an Insomniac (a winter poem)

I wish I could remember all the times
You didn't sleep. I picture your black walls,
Where you'd misspelled the word "Believe," and you'd
Painted there a fairy who looked too much
Like you. You hardly slept at all that year,
Unless I was there to take your burden.

I can see you in your bedroom, the same way
Every time. You'd write me notes, or you'd
Play that same damn song ten times in a row.
"Make it go away," you'd write- always the dramatic flair-
Pretending to pull blades across your skin until I loved you.
But you decided you didnt want that, not from me- so
I pulled the blankets closer, and kissed you
While you slept, breathing softly on my skin.

I'd keep a lonely vigil there, drowned in
Blackness, trying to wake you from nightmares
Fueled by melatonin, your poisoned honey.
You'd whimper and I'd shake you, but no use.

Our whole lives were like that, lying awake
In our beds, with a handul of stardust
To take with the placebos they gave us.

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new and unsure

i'm not sure what i'm doing here. i'm not sure why i've been trying to get an account here since march. i'm not sure what i want to tell people about my life, or what i think this will accomplish.
it just seems like a good thing to do.

very similar to when i found myself in a couch-filled room, telling 'my story' to a group of strangers. the story of a beautiful girl and how my whole world changed in a day.

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