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(4 ripped through the flesh | fire shot down) [03 Feb 2004|09:11am] I just got a "talking to" by a concerned Ms. Garot about the story I wrote for Lit. Not cool. She’s concerned about me and wanted to refer me to a depression screening at the Teen Health Center. Shit. Alsdjfg;ah;alksdfg. Fucking retard. I should never have written it in the first place.

(2 ripped through the flesh | fire shot down) [02 Feb 2004|08:32pm] [ mood | pessimistic ] [ music | Blink182-Below ] Damn. I can feel it happening again. I hate it when you know you're going to be depressed for the rest of the evening, but you can't do anything about it. Or maybe just won't. I don't know. Ick. I shouldn't feel jealous or angry at all, there's absolutely no reason, but I can't help it. I'm encredibly insecure and my self-esteem equals 0. Blah, I just need to read or something. Go away.

(fire shot down) Here's how it's spreadin' [02 Feb 2004|07:58pm] [ mood | calm ] [ music | Marylin Manson-The Beautiful People ] I have so many thoughts, ideas and basically useless crap floating around in my head, but I can't seem to make myself put it into writing, either online or on paper. It's odd. Normally I don't have a hard time bitching to my journals, but for some reason, I've been really struggling these last two weeks. Well, today's as good as any to make a start on the recording of these random curiosities. First, I had a lhappy time with Danielle on Friday night. That has to be one of the loveliest nights in the past month or so. We finally stuck to plan, suprise, surprise, and bought sparkling cider as we said we would. That was the first part of the enjoyment. Actually, spending the afternoon at her house instead of going to the assembly was good too. We started watching Fight Club and finished it later that night. Good stuff. We made soap the next morning, unfortunately not from American woman fat, but you just have to make do with what you've got. The graveyard venture on Friday night was....perfect. At least for me. I've wanted to do that for a long time, just walk through the cemetery and look at people's graves and talk to them and be in their presence. It would have been slightly better if it hadn't been snowy, but I really didn't notice the cold much at all. Thank you, that was a beautiful night for me. And our conversation at the high school whilst waiting for your mother and continued later was nice. Healthy. I'm looking forward to Stephanie and Mary coming back. I'll work up the courage somehow. Which is also another thing I want to talk about, but not until I've told my sister. After that, I don't really care, but I just need her to know before anyone else. Woo, this should be good. Let's see, what else about my wildly exciting life can I share with you, my fascinated audience? Musings about friendships and where they seem to be heading or ending, but that's a topic for a different entry some other time. Most of my thoughts are not worth putting down in here so as to spare the feelings of any who take the risk of boredom and read my journal. The two in particular who matter most to me, but as I said, that's for a different entry at a later date. There are, as always, some basics complaints to be made about my parents. I'm not an emotionally or physically abused child, my parents don't drink or do drugs or even smoke, any of that shit, they don't fight, they've always been very good parents. But I'm growing into the sullen, loner child that all teenagers become when they hit a certain age and it creates an amazing gap between kid and parent. I don't really want anything to do with my parents most of the time and just wish they'd leave me alone. But they have to be involved, lest they lose all hold on me forever. Well, there's really no fear of that, I simply need to grow out of this stage in my life. But in the meantime, leave me alone, stop asking your probing questions, don't think that every boy who calls is going to be my lover, stop disapproving of my friends, or if you must, at least don't tell me about it. I'm sorry she's not Ryia, but you will simply have to deal with that and move on with it because she's perfect in my eyes. I need you to see that I want to be on my own, I want to be left to my own devices, at least for the time being. There are just things that you don't need to know, don't need to understand and, if you find out about, should leave alone and don't question until I'm ready to tell you about them. I know you have your suspicions, but I guess it's for me to know and you to find out. I always hated that line, but now it seems to work. I'll tell you in good time, when I'm ready to let you guys into my life, but for now, these thoughts will remain mine and these actions will remain unseen by your eyes. I love you, I really do, however much it seems like I don't, but I just want to be alone, a separate child from the one that's already passed and someone apart from you both.

(1 ripped through the flesh | fire shot down) Here I'll hide, until the Bob has left [01 Feb 2004|06:43pm] [ mood | disgusted ] [ music | Marylin Manson-Coma White ] A pill to make you numb A pill to make you dumb A pill to make you anybody else All the drugs in this world Won't save her from herself If you actually listen to Manson's lyrics, they make an amazing amount of sense and the messages they contain are depressingly real while at the same time inspirational. So my evening last night was wild and unforegettable. I stayed over at Sarah's house and that was actually kind of random. We haven't really been friends since middle school years, but recently she's been wanting to sit next to me and talk with me all the time in Lit. And now she's wanting me to hang out on the weekends. And it's just kind of awkward for me because we're not the same people anymore. We used to share everything, we were so much alike, we enjoyed all the same things. Which was kind of what ended our friendship. Not ended, just discontinued, which isn't the same thing. She's still easy enough to talk to, but things really aren't the same anymore. I used to envy her for all her guy friends and energetic, easy, out-going personality. But when I actually took the time to look at her and see her, I realized she's just a follower who wants to be too many things she's not. She agrees with me on anything and when she has an opinion of her own and I disagree with it, she'll change her own. I was talking about all this music that I like and all these really great songs that I know she didn't know about, she just agreed with me and nodded like she knew what I was talking about. It's not so much annoying as it is sad. All the more so because I realize I used to be like that. Am still like that actually, but more aware of it now. I want to be an individual, with a personality of my own and opinions to call my own, but I'm really just following in the foot-steps of those ahead of and around me. I hate being what I think others want me to be, but that's just who I end up becoming. And Sarah's a bit like that. Anyways, I went to her house and we walked down to Pel Meni's for dinner. Jordan picked us up and we went sledding in the graveyard. We went back to Sarah's, tried to watch a movie, but got bored, so we drove out Thane and walked along the beach. We talked about Jordan's addiction to pot from the last two years and how much he'd changed and was a good little boy now. Sarah had tried it a couple of times, but decided that she couldn't keep doing it, which I guess I'm glad about. They had these little cigar things, cigarillos, and I guess they've smoked them for awhile because they just lit one while we were walking and started passing it around. And yes, I did try it and no, Danielle, I'm not an addict. I knew the minute I took it that you'd be disappointed in me, but you know what? I'm glad I tried. I think it's stupid to go around denouncing something that you've never experienced. It wasn't what I expected; it wasn't bad, but there's nothing in it for me. Maybe I just needed to experience something different for once instead of staying in a hypocritcal rut for the rest of my life. So I tried something new, realized what I'd known all along, that it's not worth falling for and moved on with my life. I want to apologize to you because I feel like I've done you some sort of irrevocable harm, but I'm not entirely sure I need to. I can't say that anything bad came out of it. I AM sorry that you won't ever see it this way, but I don't think there's anything I can do about that. And that's not where the fun ends. The shit continues. I'm not sure why I did it, but when we were driving back to Sarah's, we were talking about fire and burning and I asked Jordan if he'd ever cut while going through his crap years. He said no, but he knew why I'd asked and so asked in return if I had. I'm sure I wanted him to at the time, but in retrospect, I hate myself more than ever. Of course I said yes and we talked about it for about five minutes before he and Sarah got side-tracked with something else. Maybe that's why I brought it up, knowing they weren't capable of staying on one subject for more than five minutes at a time before moving on to other things. That's the first time I've ever told anyone outside my very limited circle of friends that I've cut. On top of writing that story for Ms. Garot. Why the hell do I feel this need to tell people, when I know I'll regret it in the end? It's absolutely no business of anyone else and I don't know why I think they should know. Maybe I just can't keep things inside so tell the next available person. Don't trust me with your secrets, you can't count on me to keep anything in. I'll just end of spilling it to whoever cares. In looking at myself over the last week, I see a worthless piece of shit who needs to take her head out of her ass and think about things before doing them. A fucked up retarded loser who takes her only friend for granted. What a shitty life I've made for myself. And here I go, off on my own tangents, random wanderings of the mind that lead to nowhere but hatred and self-pity. How disgusting.

(fire shot down) Eulogy #2 [29 Jan 2004|08:53pm] [ mood | contemplative ] [ music | AFI-God Called in Sick Today ] Danielle's background reminded me of all the war memorials that we have erected to commemorate our dead, so I went and found a picture of the Vietnam Wall Memorium that I really liked. It's so depressing yet so uplifting at the same time. I'm really obsessed with the idea of death and graves and lying eternally in your crumbled, decrepit bones, completely unaware of life and your own destroyed state. Dead. Just dead. It sounds so wonderful, so beautiful, so peaceful. I can't wait to die. That sounds odd, but thinking of dying and having every misery in life, just having every aspect of life, obliterated in the swell of death and destruction appeals to me. And creamation. Burnnig. My ashes swept into a little jar and scattered into the wind. No one would ever have to think of me again because there would be nothing left of me to pay attention to. No grave, no headstone, no lasting memorial to a girl who mattered so little in this world. I'm not depressed anymore, just exhilirated by this idea that I am going to die and I'm really looking forward to it. I could care less how it happens, but I know that someday it will be my time to die and I want it to be soon. Perhaps suicide. Maybe I will end up taking my own life. That would be one to go. Does it seem odd that I can talk so freely and cheerfully about killing myself? Well it seems right. It seems natural. We should be able to speak of death with no restrictions. It's a natural life event, it will effect absolutely everyone. Why should we not talk freely of it? I can't understand how anyone could be so close-minded about death. It's so beautiful. It shouldn't be scary. It will happen when it happens and there's not a thing you can do about it, so why fight this idea? Do you think that by not talking about death, that it will go away? Well it won't. It will come to everyone and that is exciting. I can't wait to die.

(fire shot down) Why are the dead so much happier than the living? [29 Jan 2004|08:49pm] [ mood | Fat ] [ music | Yellowcard-Empty Apartment ] the dead are unaware from day to eternal day that life goes on above them while they lie crumbled wasted away to dust crushed by time and press of forgotten bodies this is the world of graves where the dead are laid to rest and the living go to appease themselves for there is no rest for the wicked also known as the living we are dead from the start no hope to continue and for some this is the blessing and death cannot come any faster than i need it Ick. I don't know what this is about, but I'm feeling creative and have no artistic skills with which to express myself.

(4 ripped through the flesh | fire shot down) quien depespertarta esta noche eternamente? [29 Jan 2004|06:25pm] [ mood | depressed ] [ music | Better Than Ezra-Sincerely, Me ] I posted this once a long time ago in one of my numerous journals, but it still moves me and when I came across it in a file, I decided that those in my limited world who care needed to see it again: Once, on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem And he called it “Chops” because that was the name of his dog And that’s what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and a gold star And his mother hung in on the kitchen door and read it to his aunts That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo And he let them sing on the bus And his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hair And his mother and father kissed a lot And the girl around the corner sent him a Valentine signed with a row of X’s and he had to ask his father what the X’s meant And his father always tucked him in bed at night And was always there to do it Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem And he called it “Autumn” because that was the name of the season And that’s what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearly And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paint And the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigars And left butts on the pews And sometimes they would burn holes That was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black frames And the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa Clause And the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lot And his father never tucked him bed at night And his father got mad when he cried for him to do it. Once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poem And he called it “Innocence: A Question” because that was the question about his girl And that’s what it was all about And his professor gave him an A and a strange steady look And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed her That was the year that Father Tracy died And he forgot how the end of the Apostle’s Creed went And he caught his sister making out on the back porch And his mother and father never kissed or even talked And the girl around the corner wore too much makeup That made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to do And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed his father snoring soundly That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poem And he called it “Absolutely Nothing” Because that’s what it was really all about And he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wrist And he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn’t think he could reach the kitchen.

(fire shot down) Tuvo un sueno sobre me suicido. [28 Jan 2004|09:35pm] [ mood | curious ] [ music | Better Than Ezra-Sincerely Me ] I'm feeling very slack about updating my journal anymore. It was like a fad for a little while there, we were all update-sluts for a bit, but now we all seem to have slowed down and stopped taking an interest. Or maybe it's just me. I'm not really sure. So I'm screwed over by my mother and by the law when I get my driver's license. The state is going to pass a law that restricts new drivers, which is not a bad idea, but what the new law will say is that you can't drive at night or with anyone else in the car for SIX WHOLE FREAKING MONTHS!!! And while this law won't go into effect until after I've had my license for awhile, it's sparked the idea in Mother's head that she should do the same for me anyway. I mean, I knew there would be limitations from her, that was excepted, but she seems to think six months is a reasonable amount of time. Well, you know what, it's really fucking not. I'm not waiting six months to be able to drive my friends around. No. I've already waited five to get my license, I'm not waiting that much longer to take people where I want to go. Ick. Time for a school update: I dropped Algebra 2/Trig., took an off campus, picked up Algebra 2/Trig. again today with a different teacher and different period and had my Spanish class changed to a different period so that I am now in Danielle's class. Hooray. So I am a busy girl and a bored one. Lovely. I really would like to say something profound or meaningful in this entry. It feels like I should have something to say. But for some reason, the words and ideas roaming around in the wide open spaces of my mind don't seem to want to come down and imprint themselves upon the keyboard to the screen, and so you the readers will have to forgo the pleasure of knowing my thoughts. Perhaps soon they will flow out, but for the moment, all these thoughts remain locked away, and will not be moved. So it goes. C'est la vive.

(1 ripped through the flesh | fire shot down) [27 Jan 2004|06:36pm] [ mood | amused ] [ music | AFI-Dream of Waking ] Okay, they are a bit weird, but I thought these were incredibly funny: http://www.totallytom.com/MadCow.html HOW DO YOU KNOW IF YOUR CAT HAS SEEN YOU NAKED? http://www.code16.com/cat/

(fire shot down) [25 Jan 2004|11:40am] [ mood | annoyed ] [ music | The Smiths-Asleep ] I don't feel like I have anything to say anymore. There's a lot on my mind, but staring at a blank journal screen is intimidating and I don't know what to fill it up with. Anything I have to say I tell Dani anyways, so it doesn't seem like there's much of a point in writing it down in here. But then again, I feel obligated to keep this thing updated and I'm not really sure why. Yeah, I'm just really confusing so we're gonna end it now. Blah. I also don't need to share my weekend story because all you need to do is read Dani's journal and you'll know. Except that I think I'm going to the sophomore wall decorating thing this afternoon which should piles of fun. Mother is making me angry at myself and her because every half hour or so she asks if I've called Tom and, of course, I haven't so I'm peeved at her for nagging and annoyed at myself for procrastinating when I've still got eightteen hours of work to do on my science fair project. This is great. Being ill is a bummer. Everything feels icky and I don't want to go anywhere or do anything. And now it's sunny and depressing outside. I wish it would go away and bring snow instead. That would be just wonderful with our upcoming Alpine Club excursion, but it's looking pretty dubious at this point. Sunshine is too happy. Rain is too ugly. Nothing is ever satisfactory to me. Maybe I should just stop being such a picky, spoiled brat and accept life because there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Anyway, enjoy your delightful day.

(4 ripped through the flesh | fire shot down) Raise your glasses to the start of insanity [22 Jan 2004|09:36pm] [ mood | tired ] [ music | Something Corporate-Straw Dogs ] So this is my fourth Blurty journal and I'm not entirely sure why I should be keeping it. I found out why my old ones were being suspended, so I had to make a new e-mail address, a fake last name and different information for myself. It's like I'm running from the Blurty police, which essentially I am, simply because I told them my real birthday. Oh the shame. Anyhow, this is the new me. Again. Hooray. So I just had a visit from Sarah and Jordan Kendall. That was fun. He's really hot. And yeah. I feel stupid, I kind of let down his expectations of me from all the stories Sarah's told him, but yeah, this is the realy me so if he's not interested, piddle on him. Not that I'm at all interested in a boyfriend. I can't handle relationships. I do so much better on my own and I end up hating myself for going out with them in the first place. Ighy. All right, yeah, I have nothing else to report other than that I've had three orgasms in the last two days. And before you start thinking weird disgusting things, it's because seven sneezes equals one orgasm. So I am a happy person. Hooray.

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