Why did I leave everything supportive to come here? Why am I spending hours on end, alone, wondering what to do next?

Sometimes loneliness is oppressive and paralyzing.

I don't know that I'd actually be doing anything differently with my weekends in Atlanta, but at least there, my friends were a short drive away and I knew there were people I could call. Here I feel so isolated.

It's really just tht first step to get out of the house and do something. To leave the cocoon of whatever that's created when you stay at home thinking too much.

I'm going hiking with a new friend this aftenoon. I think I'd rather stay in bed and hide, but I'm going to get out there. As soon as I finish this cry.

At this point I don't want to go to CA, because as soon as I get there I'm going to have to turn around and come back here. Is this home? Is that home? Is Atlanta home? Where the hell am I?