I suppose that Hobbit footnotes grow hair...

On a peevish side note: there should be some public distinction between dramatics and sadness. While the general pretentious populance has decided that the two are inevitably linked, number one:A person is entitled to being sad for realistic reasons, and number two, which cancels out number one:Who cares? So what if depression errs to the dramatic side? If someone you care about is having a hard time, then be compassionate, regardless of connotation.You can't be mopey with Irish jigs playing behind your right shoulder. Not that I would choose to be. Because I advocate direct communication, I will say the following in explaination for the below, the above, and all that transpires in your heads between the lines: I have been having a very hard time recently. I've been fighting with my parents a lot, I haven't been to therapy in three weeks, and I've been the sole main organizer for the Day of Silence, attendee of SAHLS, and over-worked GLAAD volunteer ( all of which can be garnered from the first post in this journal, which outline this past week's schedule in greater detail than bodes repeating). Not to mention the juggling of schoolwork, AP prep, and three SAT classes a week. I have felt as though friends of mine, none in particular, just in general, haven't been very sensitive to my sleep-deprived, easily irritable state. Here is a clear and simple statement of what I need right now;-I need consideration-I need a little more (metaphysical) space than usual-I need everyone to just go easy on me for a few days until I can coax out of hiding the piece of my head from under my covers. Give, and ye shall recieve. ( Which, chances are, if you read this journal, you do anyway.)I promise to behanve now, and go draw in my sketchybook.