But when everybody loves me, I'm going to be just about as happy as can be

I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

Mark is under extreme depression as I speak. And I am helpless. I am keeping vigil just in case he responds, as I have made very lame attempts to communicate, but I don't think he will. Even Linda tells me I can't help, even though she asked me to. I'm afraid. Somehow I forgot about his volatile state... he seemed to be okay yesterday. He was never comfortable with speaking to me about anything personal, so I realize I definitely can not be any help and may only hinder... but maybe if I remain vigilant.

It hurts me that Linda is so upset and worried, as well. She is my authority on Mark, really, and she has seen him depressed before. If she thinks it is serious, then I can't hope to reason otherwise. Writing in this journal at this moment feels like a sin. Although this event has made me realize that I want so badly to do stuff for my friends precisely because I am so utterly helpless to aid them in any way.

I really hope he is okay. I wish I could tell him that he could rely on me. That I'd pretty much rather ride in his car then any other. That I wish I am as smart as he is. I want to say it, and have him believe me. I can't remember what I wrote to him in my wedding note... I wonder if he believed that. Could the fact that it was in writing change anything?