Eleanor is in the hospital now. They relapsed last night and I feel horrible. She and Will are insisting it's not my fault, that I didn't do anything wrong, etc., but blaming myself just feels so much easier. I'm trying to piece it all together. Silas is moving to Greece. Livi is going to kill herself by the end of the year if she isn't happy by then. I don't care. She keeps pushing it back and as horrible as this sounds, I think it'd be better for everyone if she finally just did it and we were over with it for good. What else. Eleanor's afraid everyone is going to leave her. I'm not. Ever. She also isn't eating, and I don't know why. She hasn't been really, not for a while. And I don't know what to do about it. I don't know what to do about anything. I'm so incredibly stupid not to ask about it sooner. Then there's Will. He told me his mental health is really bad right now. When isn't it? He's going to therapy twice a week at least. He says I don't have to worry about him but we both know I'm still going to. I don't understand why all these things are happening. Why can't we just be happy? Anyway, I'm with Eleanor right now at the hospital and she's asleep and I can't so I'm writing instead. I'm practicing talking about the hardest things, starting by writing them down. Maybe this year won't be better for me after all. Maybe it'll be worse. Maybe it'll be the worst it's gotten.
