I have a story for you, Carol.

Maya has a car, and when she had to come over to my house a few days ago she realized that we actually live a lot closer to each other than she thought. So now Maya offers to pick me up all the time.

We went out to lunch today and then we walked around downtown, there's lots of cool shops and even though I had no money it was fun to just walk around with Maya while she bought a few things for herself.

I started to feel kind of dizzy at one point, sometimes that happens because of my medication, especially when I don't eat after I take it, and I needed to sit down on a bench for a few minutes. Maya sat with me and didn't even ask why I needed to take a break, she just said that we could start walking again when I was ready.

That's still one of my my favorite things about Maya. She doesn't question anything. She never asks me why I act so strange sometimes and she doesn't seem to care, either. I guess she knows that that's just how I act and there's no way for me to change that.

Maya is going into her junior year of college and she talks a lot about what she's going to do when she's all finished with school. She wants to write books, that's her main goal, and from what I understand she wants to travel around the worlds to find inspiration.

I wish that I could do something like that. I would do anything to be able to travel and see new things but I can't, because everyone knows that something will go wrong if I try to leave this stupid town. I can't even be away from home for a few hours without freaking out. And how will I get my medication refilled if I'm backpacking around Europe?

If you couldn't tell, that was sarcastic, Carol.

Maya took me into a music shop and made me listen to a few records that she said I would probably like. I recognized most of the bands she showed me, but there were a couple that I don't think anyone knows about.

I think music is very important. My friend's cousin came to visit him once when we were younger. The kid was in 8th grade at the time and he went on and on about how this one band had practically saved his life, and the lyrics to their songs just meant so much to him. I never understood how that was possible, they're just songs.

Recently I started to pay more attention to the lyrics of songs and the overall message and I began to understand. Music really does make a difference and I think that's so important, because music can reach to so many different people going through so many different things. My friend still doesn't understand.

Maya made me listen to a song by one of my favorite bands, and I already knew it by heart. I tried to say something about how much this song meant to me but it came out kind of messed up.

I think I said something like: "I-I love this song, it means so much- uh, it means a lot to me and I love the lyric... Um, well now I can't think of it, um, I just-I just really love this song."

Maya laughed a little and then started to say that this band's first album was their best, but I quickly disagreed and said that their third album was better, it had my favorite song on it. I think I got a little too defensive about it at one point because Maya stared at me for a good 30 seconds with a funny look on her face.

We left the music store after that because I started pouting about the short little argument we'd had and I was being stubborn and refusing to listen to any of the other albums that Maya picked out. We decided to go to the playground across the street instead.

Maya starting swinging and I just stood there even though there was an open swing right next to her. She complained about how hot it was outside and I just shrugged, I was wearing a sweatshirt like I always did and I felt alright. Maybe that's just because it's what I'm used to.

She asked: "Aren't you going to swing?"

I shrugged: "No."

My mom says I shrug too much and she says that shrugging makes it seem like I don't really care most of the time, but that's pretty true.

Maya asked why I wouldn't swing and then I said that swinging was for kids and then Maya laughed and asked why I was like this. I didn't understand what she meant, so then Maya had to explain that I acted very grown up for an 18 year old boy. I shrugged again and told her that I'd been through a lot for an 18 year old boy and I felt like it was just right for me to act a little more grown up than normal 18 year old boys.

After that Maya got kind of quiet and I could just tell that she wanted to ask some questions about me but she wasn't going to, Maya was too nice for that. She would never pry into something that was clearly personal.

My mom called me just a few minutes later and said that her and my step dad and my step brother were all wondering where I was, and then I realized that I hadn't told anyone that I was going out with Maya today. My mom was not happy at all.

You'd think that she'd be excited about me making a friend, right Carol? But no, she yelled at me because I'm irresponsible and I made everyone worry and it was so stupid of me to leave without letting anyone know. Apparently I should be ashamed of myself for leaving like that, especially after what happened last March.

I apologized to my mom and then asked Maya if she could take me back home, which she obviously agreed to because she could tell that I was about to start crying. And I did start crying, as soon as I got in the car. I hated when my mom said things like that to me, it just made me feel even worse than I usually do.

Maya had to pull over because I was crying so hard that I thought that I was going throw up and I would just feel so awful if I did it in her car. At this point Maya definitely knows that there's something wrong with me but I think she respects me enough not to ask until she knows that I'm ready to tell her.

Obviously I'm not ready, considering the fact that I start crying every time I get yelled at. Right Carol?

When I got back home my mom and step dad both had a "discussion" with me, even though I think that it seemed more like them yelling at me than a discussion. Maybe that's just me.

I got grounded and then sent up to my room, but my mom was nice enough to give me a plate of food to eat for dinner and my meds. My step brother was waiting at the top of the stairs for me when I walked up there.

He tried to make conversation with me and act like he's been through something like this before. But he hasn't. He hasn't been through anything similar to the shit I've been through and I'm sick of him trying to act like he has.

Since I'm mad at my mom I didn't take my medication and I'm not going to eat my dinner either because I feel sick right now. I think I'm just going to go to sleep and I hope I don't wake up for a very long time.

Later Carol.