I'm sitting in a parking lot, stealing internet from the nearest open connection. I don't have internet at home, so this is how I maintain my sanity on nights like this.

Nothing of consequence has happened lately, but I felt like writing anyway. Smoke signals, I guess.

This parking lot is strange. It's right off the town square and no one ever comes here except on weekend nights when the bars are packed. There are two bars here, one near the parking lot and another a block away, which I can see from here. Sometimes I see people I know, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I see obviously drunk people get into their cars and drive away. (What's the protocol there? Do I report them, or not? Seriously.) The other night, there were some guys from the city repainting the crosswalk. For some reason I was nervous they were about to tell me to move my car, but I doubt they noticed me. I'm sure fewer people notice me than I think, even though the brightness of my laptop screen should alert them to my presence.

I'm thankful this place I'm currently stealing internet from leaves their connection on all night. It's a good one, too. I haven't done a speed test or anything, but it's certainly faster than several others I've leeched in the past. And it's not like I'm watching or downloading anything illegal, so I doubt anyone would or could notice.

There, I've managed to turn this into a decent-sized entry. I'd love to hear from any readers out there.

Love,
Katy

I got a phone call today from my dead best friend.

It was Kristin's phone number, Kristin's phone, but it wasn't Kristin who left the voicemail.

"Hey Katy, it's Kristin! Just calling to — suppressed laughter — just calling to say I'm actually alive! I totally fooled you!"

And then the horrible impersonator can't control himself, and he starts laughing. I hear a few of his friends laughing in the background, too. They think this is the most hysterical thing in the world.

I was just starting to move forward, too. I thought this kind of thing only happened in movies.

Back to square one. Kristin, I'm so sorry.

Love,
Katy

I'm shaking and crying because this month has been the worst and now it's almost over and I don't know why I'm feeling so bad but it's kind of cathartic I guess. I hope I see it that way soon because right now it just feels like I'm being stabbed all over my body and I can't make it stop.

In the month of May, 2013:

• My estranged sister Brooke passed away from brain cancer none of us knew she had, and when we found out it was too late. It was probably too late from the start they said but that doesn't make me feel better about it.
• My best friend in the whole world, Kristin, committed suicide.
• My first cousin was hit by a car and died on the scene, she was one of the few people I was close with besides my dead best friend. Her funeral is tomorrow and until a few hours ago I thought I'd finally be able to go formally say goodbye to someone I've lost but that's not the case anymore. Her name was Lily and she was so close to my age it hurts to think about.

That's just the really bad stuff, there's other bad stuff but it's not worth mentioning. I was so ready for this month to be over so I could move on but now I feel like I've placed all my energy into making this month horrible on my own terms that I don't think I'm ready for June. There's only a few hours left in May and I'm afraid for it to be midnight because that means I have to feel better.

I'll write more when I'm more coherent.

Love,
Katy

My boyfriend Sev told me I should write another book. He works overnight and I have to amuse myself for the 12 hours he's gone, unless I fall asleep. Which isn't often. I'm a terrible sleeper.

I figured I'd start here until the mood strikes me to write longer entries that could turn into chapters. Or maybe I'll just turn these thoughts into a book, who knows? I'd love to actually get one of my novels published, rather than letting them collect dust on my bookshelf in almost-finished form. Perpetually almost-finished is what they've been for years, but no one knows but me. And my boyfriend, of course, which is precisely why he wants me to write more.

I don't think I'll be writing much unless I have something interesting to say. This post doesn't count because every blog needs a first post that's boring so people can know to expect more. I hope someone reads this and lets me know they do so, that way I'll feel like I'm doing this for someone other than myself. Which would be nice.

Call me Katy. That's not my name, but it'll do for now.