Much too open for the Internet.

My boyfriend talks in his sleep, and walks around the room in his sleep as well.

I think it's catching, because last night, when he was fiddling with the CD player IN HIS SLEEP I asked him what he was doing, only I called him the wrong name.

This is not good. I don't have a clue why I called him the other name, because it's not an ex-boyfriend's name. It was someone we had been talking about just before we went to sleep and I was thinking about the conversation as I drifted off.

I hope so much that he doesn't remember. I was going to ask him but he left for work before I got up.

I hope I haven't blown it.

My friend recently told me that I come across as independent and "very un-needy". That is, she said, until you get to know me.

My boyfriend asked me last night what the cuts and scratches on my arms were.

I wanted to tell him, but I just couldn't quite find the right words. I sat in silence staring at his knee for about a minute and a half, trying to formulate sentences and failing.

I just about managed to tell him. Eventually. I think I said the phrase "you're going to think I'm crazy" about ten times before I managed to be honest.

I don't know what his reaction was, really. He is unreadable. I hope I haven't put him off me.

We talked about it. I was guarded and simultaneously trying to laugh it off and be honest. It doesn't happen often, I told him. Most of the time I'm fine! Fine! Sometimes I'm not, though. I... I don't know why.

He thinks I should go and see a psychologist. He said that it might perhaps help me to see the world and to see myself differently. To identify triggers and to find things that help.

He's right, of course. He mentioned something about biorhythms, as well.

I avoided eye contact and felt like an idiot.

I feel like an idiot.

His reaction was all good, but there didn't seem to be much affection. I don't even know if he likes me.

I cannot really deal with it.

I don't think I have been this honest very much on my blog. At the moment I feel so torn that I can't be any other way.

I am so tired, that's all. Tired physically, and tired of trying to work out what someone is feeling when I have only scraps of evidence.

I should ask. I am just scared that the process of asking will determine the answer.

I am an idiot. I am an over-analytical, loserish idiot.

I, once again, cannot work out how to make anything better.

I woke up in his bed this morning feeling like I had been hit by a train. Actually, no, I woke up, opened my eyes and then BANG there was the train. I wanted to cry. Cry and cry and cry. I didn't, though. He got up and got ready for work and I lay there, not crying.

As he came to kiss me goodbye I turned my face slightly and his kiss landed on my cheek.

I cannot believe I'm writing this all down. I can't stop, though.

I lay there. I could have cried, then. I still didn't, though.

I could cry now, but I'm not. I'm not.

Please tell me what to do. I feel so lost.