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Sporadic musings of a girl shaped person

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having a bitch, just quitely [26 Jun 2003|05:24pm]
My father is so trying sometimes. We were having a conversation last night about my life and well, I just don't think he understands me at all.

"I have nothing to apologise to you for. I did the best i knew how."
I understand this. He did do the best he knew how. Despite that though, I do .think he has things to apologise to me for. This is my struggle. I get caught up in the reason why as an excuse,then blame things on myself. Everyone .has something to apologise for as far as I'm concerned. I could be the bigger person and apologise to him for the things I've done. But I'm stubborn. If it isn't going to be a two way process, I can't deal with it. If I'm going to be broken and vaulnerable,I want him to show me the same courtesy I supose. That's rediculous isn't it?

"I'll get you in to see the therapist through work if you want. It's just a small thing you need fixed then you won't have to see him anymore"

i love that he offered this. It means a lot to me. The main reason that I'm not going off my own bat is that it's expensive. Through his work, it's covered for the whole family by insurance. But as Ani difranco says,
"i'm proud of the fact that I'm worse than I seem"
i'm slightly offended that he presumes to know what goes on in my head. He thinks I should just deal and move on. But no matter what he thinks he knows about me, he hasn't led my life; which he thinks has been pretty good up untill this point. It has been in terms of physical comfort and the like, but emotionally, it's not the bed of sweet sweet roses that he thinks. So anyway, I'm not perfect, I torture myself much more than is nessacary, and i think that talking it out with someone objective might well save my life. So for that I thank him.

I'm cold, there's solvent fumes drifting through my window, so I'm going to end here before I start halucinating!
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[26 Jun 2003|08:17pm]
It's all really just my thing to deal with. dad trys the hardest he can. i just hate being told what to do. I hate being told what i need to do. Only i know what i need to do. Sometimes the truth hurts too. Sorting fact from fiction is sometimes very hard work. But thats one of the chores of life. It's so easy to think that 'I know what's going on' rather than facing the truth.
I do face the truth most of the time though. but I aloso know that I focus on other peoples problems to deflect from my own as a means to cope. No, no good. must stop it.
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[26 Jun 2003|09:17pm]
In a random journal surf I found a 16 year old girl whos turn ons include whipped cream and wife beaters.

I hope she was trying to be funny........
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