whatever.

So my parents said that they would get me therapy.
LIES!

Lies. I'm so mad.

in skin

College applications are the bane of my existence. Not even kidding. I feel like a prostitute, having to sell myself to every public university on the coast. It's not a fun feeling. I want them to just take me for I am, not how I seem on paper. It's suddenly as if all the things I've been doing over the last four years haven't been enough. On one hand I say to myself: how could I have done more? But on the other hand I know I could have applied for Teen of the Year, or done more activities. But did I want to do that? No. But it scares me that doing what I wanted to do might have screwed me over.

And when I get into that oh-so prestigous school that I really am dying to get into I will celebrate by getting a piercing or a tattoo, or doing something that will make me stand out from all those numbers, because I'll know that they saw more than my mediocre grades, and my obsession with my guitar.


And when I don't get into that oh-so prestigous school that I really am dying to get into I will still get a piercing or a tattoo, because I'll know that I will stand out and be my own person wherever I go, no matter what I will do.

I just have to find a way to show them how unique I am.

And it's getting harder each day.

lacking

My life has become increasingly boyless since I last posted. Citrus Boy is sort of out of my life. The Sex God is just a good friend.

The "love of my life" (fuck that) returned to visit from University on Monday, made me cry, and then left again. I suppose he was aptly named the Obscure Object. He's not just Obscure, he's fucking Opaque.

Pretty much the only guy in my life now is strictly platonic. I think. I hate it when it gets confusing about those sorts of things.

I'm seeing a therapist on Thursday.
I'm very sick, have a nasty cold.

Homecoming sucked, but I told eveyone I had a good time because I didn't want to ruin the mood.

And I hate high school.
Oh, and I'm beginning to think that I'm never going to get into college.
Otherwise, I'm fantastic.

I read a fucking amazing book. It was called "the Line of Beauty," and it's about a gay boy living in the mid 80s conservative upper class England and all its idiosyncracies... Amazing book. Won the Booker Prize.

still breathing.

He's still breathing— miracles of miracles.

And I can't believe that I'm so lucky to have him escape yet again. Does luck even play into it? I don't know.