The importance of a piece of paper

I came home from work today. Not satisfied with it as usual, hungry from stupidly trying to be on a diet, when I noticed a big cardboard envelope addessed to me. I knew immediately what is was...
My Diploma
I was excited, and a little scared. The little thing I had been waiting for was finally here. What if something was wrong? What if on the inside, it read something totally different. That I didn't really complete anything. Or that even more paperwork problems happened and pushed everything back again.
but there is was, I opened it up and saw the little piece of paper that means the world to me right now. With Arnold's scrolly signature in one corner, my four years at school gave me this.

Its a little odd, the amount of work to get a black dress-like outfit, a funny hat and a piece of paper. But it means the world.

My Home is My Azkaban; and my family its Dementors

The Harry Potter references started a few days ago, when I told my mother I simply wasn't happy. She eventually responded that I should just decide to be happy and go on with my life. So what, was I to accept my miserable existance, and just keep going day to day?

"you're going to suffer, but you are going to be happy about it"

Crazy as it sound right. But no matter what I do, there is an invisible lease on me that keeps me to the the places I have been associated with. Its probably my own fault, and my inability to let go, but its taking its emotional tolls. Whether ists elementary school, high school, college, church, APO, the drama dept, I never feel like I can move on.

And sadly, i have reached my apathy.

things that i have cared about, I simply don't care about anymore. I feel like I need a vacation from my life and everything in it. Or maybe I just need to find something more. I don't have any cheerfulness in my life right now. And I wonder if I will ever find it.

Its more than a one shot idea. This has existed for almost two decades in my life, and its not going to go away anytime soon. At least, not until I can feel safe in my own house anymore, instead of fleeing to my bell tower from the jeering crowds of Paris downstairs.

My repressed emotions play out in haunting dreams of a different world. Images so fleeting in my waking moments I cry for their return, only for them to be snatched away from my memory in the waking morning light.

i don't know what to say
I don't know if this made any sense.
I just felt like it needed to be said

"hello, I am you mind, giving you someone to talk to"