Is it bad to be jealous of other people's lives when mine seems so comparatively un-lived sometimes?

I think it's bad. I think I need to keep telling myself that their life can't possibly be *that* good and they're just typing up nice. I'll keep telling myself that.

I feel depression playing around the corners of my life lately. Not sure why or how she's come around again. No real reason. I feel like I'm not who I say I am, I'm not even who I say I want to be. I'm playing at it here, hoping no one finds out I'm wholly incapable of...anything.

I watch Sometimes in April in the middle of the night and I cry. Why can I not scream at the wrongness and question the reality of a (g)od who would let that happen then be grateful, kissing the American dirt in my yard GRATEFUL for the life I have? I should feel that gratitude. I should. I need to.

The preceeding post has been brought to you by PMS, the other menstrual sydrome.