a little regret

After that last embarrassing post, I suppose I should try and post something uplifting and beautiful. But really, I'm having a hard time thinking of anything that is either uplifting or moving. My life is monotonous these days, and I have no motivation to make something cheerful up in order to put a salve on my ego. This last weekend was good, I suppose, but it was still marred by little moments of insanity that were, frankly, humiliating. Saturday night I went off the wall, and my parents almost drove down to LA to pick me up. I'm glad they didn't, but at the same time, I was so glad that they were finally listening. But after I finally revealed what was wrong, my mother is still saying things like "you have to pretend like you're perfectly even if you're a little blue…" A little blue? A little blue? I cannot even begin to describe how much of an understatement that is. She's suffered with depression herself, a little blue doesn't even encompass a fraction of the myriad of hellholes I've dug myself into.

So on Saturday, after crying for an hour straight, I ended up going out with some friends, and ended up macking it with some guy I didn't know, and felt so incredibly disgusting afterwards. I'm not a slut, and most of the time, I don't feel like a slut when I do things with boys I don't know. I don't think that's "sluttish," mostly because I'm discrete and don't go beyond the boundaries of propriety. But this time something just felt so weird about it, that afterwards, I sort of just closed my eyes and pretended I hadn't kissed him because the idea was just so insanely repulsive to me. It wasn't that he was ugly. It wasn’t that he wasn't a nice kid. It was just wrong all of a sudden. I don't get it, I really don’t.

even just for the day

I've reached the end of my rope. I am wiped. Emotionally, physically, I am drained of all I can give. I'm to the point where I can no longer be unselfish. I cannot hold up any longer. I am just not myself anymore. And if one more person pushes my buttons I will scream and scream until I can no longer hold onto sanity. There is only so far I can push myself, and I have reached the wall. My dreams are plagued with things I can't see; and my life is plagued by my growing sense of disillusionment and paranoia.

I cannot see how I will possibly make it to the end of the week without just dropping out, completely, or just hitting the wall. And if I do both, I wouldn't be surprised. I'm just OVER IT. Over everything.

And I just needed to rant for a few seconds to get it all off my chest and onto paper, because honestly, if I keep everything bottled up like I have a tendency to do, I will end up hitting my head against the wall repeatedly until my forehead is bloody.

I've done that before. And it was weird. And I don't want to do it again.

uncle johnny did cocaine

My appetite aint got no heart
I said my appetite aint got no heart
Shocking people when you feel that pull
Shock 'em, drop 'em when you know its full

I've been listening to the Killers a lot lately, and I really hate how some of their songs just hit a little too close to home. I won't stop listening to them on that basis, but that one song... Uncle Johnny is about my uncle. And I hate it hate hate it. And to admit that I hate it is to admit that he's dead... and goddammit I hate admitting that. It's been years, but I'm so mad still.

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.