& i shall not scream, but i'd rather not be seen.

i honestly hate christmas. i have recently spent way more money than i can afford to spend, and i am extremely pissed off about it. i hate my job more than anything, and all i want to do is be there enough to pay my bills and have money for green and beer. that's all. i would say that's pretty reasonable.
i've been very miserable lately. my new bff from work has been coming over and hanging out, and that makes me kind of happy i think. she's the only girl that i have really and truly been able to relate to since moving to this land of degenerates. we had a party the other night, and that was fun. actually, nora (my new bff) came over to watch dexter, and when we walked in the door, it was a fucking circus as my roommate had decided to invite everyone and their mother over without telling me. nora and i went with it and took a bunch of shots of jose and drank a bunch of yuengling and smoked a lot of herb. everyone else was throwing up everywhere, so nora and me and two wasted but coherant guys that we work with hung out in my room and listened to music. i couldn't sleep, so i didn't. it was alright.
oh. i'm a homewrecker now. did i write about getting with that kid that has had a crush on me for like, two years? i don't remember. wait, i think i did. anyways, everyone found out about that and now i'm some kind of big homewrecker at work. it's kind of funny, all of his friends still work there and he doesn't, but they're still cool with me. i don't think they like the girlfriend.
and then i hung out with this kid that i met off of craigslist. lmao. that was. . .
i'm done talking about it.
matt came over last night and gave me a couple of beautiful gifts. it was nice to have him laying next to me. i miss him.

i'm so lonely.

i think i'm going to a party with him tonight. it will be awkward. his friends hate me for breaking his heart. i hate me for breaking his heart.

he doesn't know the greatness he is.

i am not looking forward to the day he realizes he can do better.

you, you're a history in rust.

yo yo yo. i have just figured out something really important about myself. get ready for this.
i fucking love the movie pulp fiction. love it, love it, FUCKING love it. and the reason why is because....i am fucking uma thurman's character in that movie. for real. she's so calm and collected but obviously fucked up. and i fucking love her, and i love myself, and goddamn am i fucking amazing. lmao. i just got done smoking weed with my neighbor.

so
my
apologies.

anyways. what did i do today? i kind of feel like writing about my day is not even relevant to why i keep this blog. i'm not really sure why i do it, but the whole "dear diary" format is really not it.

anyways again. so today. i woke up extraordinarily late, got a shower and ready for my day, and decided that i didn't fucking feel like running errands that aren't that important for hours on end. so i just burnt more cds instead. and then my dad came and picked me up, and took me to the mall so he could buy me lots of fancy new clothes. and then i came home, and smoked a j with my neighbor. and that's it. that is my whole day. i don't really feel regret that i can literally summarize my entire day, without leaving anything out, in less than a paragraph. is that bad? i don't fucking know, but i feel pretty damn good. i also got to watch pulp fiction. and now i'm listening to do make say think.
nothing can go wrong.
is it possible that i'm dealing wonderfully with being alone?
.
.
.
.
fuck. i ruined it. why did i have to remind myself that i am sitting in this big, beautiful house with nothing but my computer and my tv for entertainment.
and now i'm back down.
fuck.
fuckkfuck.
i'm not happy.


i will never be truly, completely, and honestly happy.


no one wi ll l.

this strange plan is random at best.

I am high as shit right now. I spent a good majority of my day pirating CDs and now I am enjoying a bowl of pasta, a cigarette, and one of the fucking coolest Built to Spill songs ever. Tree is being delivered to my doorstep, and I have tomorrow off. The only thing keeping Jack Daniels and I apart is this treachorous problem I have developed with my esophogus-presumeably from all of the other visits with Jack Daniels over the last couple of days. Fuck. I'm done school; what else is there for me to do but drink? I drink by myself, I drink with my only friend who is a female in this area, I drink with Jamie, I drink with random people I barely know.
Take last night, for example. This kid that I used to work with who has been obsessed with me for over a year texted me last night. He has a girlfriend, yet he continuously does what he can to seduce me, via text messages or AIM. His attempts usually go ignored, but last night I was bored as shit, sitting alone in my apartment, getting extremely freaked out about the wind. So, I told him to come get me. And he took me to this other kid's apartment, and we smoked and drank, and they both hit on me the whole time. The friend even asked me my sign, if that is even believable. Then he made us watch this fucking awful, creepy Japanese movie called Ichi. Then he came back to my house and we watched Biodome and made out, and all I wanted was for him to leave and for me to be alone in my bed. He just texted me this second, actually.
I'm starting to really like my upstairs housemate. Only not really. I don't know what my problem is.
I actually have to go get my tree.
I think I'll update shortly.

all your friends & sedatives mean well but make it worse.

I have somehow managed to brainwash myself into feeling as though almost every person that I engage in conversation with or hang out with is corny. An appropriate summary of what makes a person corny in my eyes is as follows:

adj. one who constantly says what he perceives to be smart, witty, or humorous. one who constantly tries to live up to a particular kind of "cool." a self-proclaimed "anti-hero" or "rebel." someone who pretends to love art and constantly references cliche musicians and modern artists. extreme sarcasm.

This could potentially go on for awhile, but I'll spare my loyal readers that much. (I don't have loyal readers.) In any case, to reference one of my earlier entries, corny people and people who are not real are either the same thing, or will eventually be the same thing. All of the corny college kids will turn into desk job clones and make corny office jokes about coffee and shit. But in any case, there was a reason for my decision to make this actualization into a journal entry.

Since I feel as though everyone is lame or fake or whatever, I am having extreme difficulty letting myself get attracted to a guy in any way, shape, or form. I've hung out with like, three dudes since last posting, and the first one was just such a fucking pretentious douchebag I drank myself into oblivion. The second one is super good looking and pretty smart, and I thought that he would be cool to hang out with, but he turned out to be a "hipster" pseudo-frat boy fucktard. I cannot feel as though a conversation is productive if it is punctuated with "right on," and "no doubt," and "fo' sho;" and for the record-dudes, if you're ever trying to like, get with a chick, do not call her "homie." It is an automatic deal breaker, and if it is not, the girl in question has no pride, and that's that.
Oh. And the third dude. This one's actually not bad, but the thing is, I like his brother a lot more. I've never found myself in a predicament like this before and it's slightly unnerving. In my defense, I saw the brother every day on the way to one of my classes, and I was interested in him right off the bat because of the look he has and his demeanor. Then one day, I start talking to this kid from one of my classes, and we went to his house to smoke one day afterwards, and lo and behold, imagine my surprise when my little "love interest" was sitting on the couch, and he was introduced to me as the brother.
But then the one I'm not so interested came over to study for our final last night, and we ended up making out etc., and I just wasn't feeling it as much as I may have hoped. It's an unfortunate thing when you can't even pretend to find some one desirable enough to kiss without feeling awkward. And he's a perfectly decent dude, apart from his occasional corny joke. But whatever. It's the whole comparison thing. I would love to hang out with the brother, and there is no way I can respectfully do that, especially after "hooking up" with the other one.

Oh yeah. I've become addicted to percosets. Kind of. I mean, I'm not at the stage where I'm freaking out and spending all of my money and dicking over my friends, but I definitely enjoy taking them when I can. So far, I have taken them continuously, all day, for about 5 days. I was incredibly fucked up at school and work on Monday. They don't make me happy; just a little bit sad. But I usually feel a lot sad, so I'll take it. They also make me really anxious to leave wherever I'm at and go to my room to listen to sweet instrumental bands and draw pictures. One day I will get my life together. I wonder what stage drug addicts fall under on Maslow's Hierarchy?

I've fucked up in school pretty bad this semester. I mean, I'm pretty sure I have a C average, but that is outrageous for me. I have been on the Dean's List every semester since Jan. 2006, and a C average is just not acceptable. My dad is being really good about it though, so that's all that really matters to me.
I HAVE TO GO TO WORK!
bye.

each strand in your hair is really insect eyes.

I am so fucking tired right now. I got 2 hours of sleep last night due to my recent addiction to the internet, stress, and the noise floor from Jamie upstairs. I had to come to school and retake a test today at eight, (which I totally bombed..) and now it is nine and I have an hour until my next class. Sure, I have lots of things I should be doing right now, picking my goddamn classes for one, but none of that appeals to me as my motivation has seemingly left me almost entirely. I'm hoping that when I do pick classes, there won't be anything left for me to take and my dad will have no choice but to let me take a semester off. Wishful thinking, I know, but I'm getting desperate.
These last few days have been strange. There will be no more GOF in my life. He continued to invite himself over; he stole my roommate's Bombay, and he is just generally a waste of life. I have no idea how I was ever attracted to such a fucktard. I'm glad that he has been cut out.
My ex boyfriend from two years ago called me yesterday. He has turned into such an awful human being. After me, he dated a wanna-be SuicideGirl with the IQ of a fucking rock. That little bitch caused me a lot of problems, and now, a year and half after he cursed me out and stopped talking to me under her orders, they have broken up and he is ready to be my friend. Yeah no. I miss his parents, and that's about it. They helped me out a lot in my rebellious teenage years.
I drank with my roommate, her boyfriend, and Matt the other night. We played Asshole and Kings and Fuck the Dealer and got super shitty. And then Matt started bitching at me about how cruel I am. He doesn't have to hang out with me. We are broken up. He caused a scene in front of my friends and essentially ruined my evening because he got drunk and disorderly and started screaming at me. I, of course, was wasted beyond belief and sat there and cried so he would shut up. I wasn't even crying about him. I was crying because I miss Jenn, and I was thinking about how I shouldn't have to deal with shit like this alone. Little did he know. He tries to guilt trip me into letting him come over because he still lives with his family and his brother has commandeered his bed. Fucking grow a set, and tell your goddamn brother to get off of your goddamn bed. I really wish everyone would just leave me the fuck alone.
Speaking of which. Family dinners with my dad usually end in screaming matches, and the one last night was no different. My dad got all pissed off about how I only tell him "superficial bullshit," which is true, but I don't know what else to tell him. He hates how private I am, and has decided that I don't tell him things about my life because I'm all fucked up on god knows what. He thinks that my idea to take a semester off is completely insane, and screamed and swore at me about how selfish I am for awhile. I decided to leave, so he followed me to my car, still screaming. I finally flipped the fuck out and started going crazy and swearing and crying and then he felt bad and told me he was going to find me a psychiatrist. My family is very functional.

In other news. I've decided that I hate being lonely, and that factor makes it more likely for me to make poor choices regarding men etc. Is it wrong for me to have standards? It's not that I feel like most of the people I date or end up in relationships with aren't good enough for me. I just want something different. I want a guy who is comfortable with taking things slow. I want someone who is intelligent, likes good music, and can teach me things. I have yet to meet someone, besides 2 of my best male friends, who can talk to me about something interesting and hold my attention for more than five minutes at a time. Usually, a guy will come over to my house, and I'll talk for hours on end. I like it at first, because they really dig what I'm saying, but then I realize that they are incapable of thinking shit up on their own and I will be nothing but a teacher in the relationship, should I pursue one. It is so fucking frustrating.
And that is why I have been known to put up Craigslist postings, and I have even joined OKcupid, the net's most outrageous dating site ever. Never have I seen so many idiots communed in one place; besides San Francisco. I just want to meet someone who fucking blows me away. Somehow, someday.

Speaking of San Fran: it blew. As I've said to some people already, the people on the west coast simply are not real people. Now, my definition on what makes a real person is pretty lax; in order to be real, you must have some sense of identity and you must not be mentally insane. you also must have more motivators in life besides money. One might be surprised at how many people in San Fran are lacking in all of these qualities. However, my time with Jenn was amazing. We killed 3 bottles of Jose Cuervo in the 5 days I was there, on top of the several cases of beer and bottle of Bacardi. We went to a party, where oddly enough, a bunch of kids from my hometown in western Pennsylvania were hanging out. (oh my god this awful whore is sitting next to me in the computer lab chewing her chips like a fucking cow and i'm going to vomit.) We went to Haight-Ashbury; I bought some sweet shit; we went to the beach and I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time. Oh, we weren't exactly allowed on the beach, just the rocks. Which are on the beach. (like, big boulder type rocks.) Someone wrecked an oil carrier boat into the fucking GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE. How fucking embarrassing is that. How do you even do that? WTF. But yeah, that was fun. Jenn and I drove around like old times and listened to sweet music and screamed at the top of lungs together due to our several separate frustrations. (anditfeltsofuckinggood.) Oh shit. I had to go to the hospital on Thanksgiving morning because Jenn's glass shower door slid off of the track and shattered on my poor naked body. That was pretty goddamn awkward. My finger somehow got sliced open to the bone, so I had to get stitches. Jenn's boyfriend took me. It didn't really hurt, and I even took some pictures. Lmao. I was sad to leave Jenn, because we had a shitload of fun, but I'll see her soon.

I cannot wait to go home and see all of my friends. They all live all over the country, so Christmas is going to be extra amazing this year. With Jenn and San Fran, and Mike in North Carolina, I have had no desire to go home at all. I mean, I suppose I should go see my family, but it's hard to make a six hour trip somewhere when I'll only be there for two days in order to see less than five people. Mike is sending me underwear in the mail. I have no idea what is possessing him to do this; all I know is that I got a text the other day asking me for my underwear size and my address. I'm slightly freaked out. They better be fucking adorable.

Alright, I need to go drink some energy drinks and get ready for my goddamn day to start. School from 8-3:30 and work from 4-11 on two hours of sleep? That's outrageous.

I'm gonna die of loneliness.

I fucking hate school. I don't just have anxiety when it comes to my classes, and I don't have trouble getting up. I love to learn things, and I love to be around people. (for the most part, lmao.) I've been to two community colleges and now I go to a state school in Pennsylvania and I honestly detest every second of it. The teachers could not care less about the students, and I haven't taken one thing from any of my classes. This depresses me. I have been lucky enough to have several excellent professors in the community colleges that have taught me so much, and I reference things that I've learned from them on a regular basis. Philosophy, British Literature, Psychology, Modern Drama, Speech, American Literature, World Religions...all amazing subjects with amazing instructors. Now this is not to say that I actually expect my math class to be anything more than tolerable, but I'm taking anthropology and music and education right now. All for nothing, it seems. Would it be too much to ask for one invigorating class per semester? I honestly have no motivation to get up in the morning and make the 40 minute drive to my bland college to do bland things and be surrounded by bland people. Sooo...that's why I've been thinking about transferring. Again. GOF actually took me to his school for a little while and not only was the campus fucking beautiful, the people were very sociable and nice right away. And I don't even go there. (yet, hopefully.) It was so refreshing to hear people that I feel as though I actually may have potential to get along with rave about how awesome their profs are. So yeah. A possible change in my educational future is in order.
Last night was a bad night. Matt showed up out of the blue, and we hung out for a little while. I miss him so much. I wish I could just tell him that we're okay, and that we'll be fine, and we'll get married and live happily ever after, but I am so unsure about how I want my life to be right now. GOF does not even compare to Matt. That's why when Matt left, and GOF showed up like 15 minutes later, (oh my god that would have been so fucking awkward...) I felt like a fool. I make a really great, caring person leave my house so the GOD OF FUCK can hang out with me. Jesus Christ, I get more despicable every day. But, karma's a bitch. GOF snores so. fucking. loud. And it drives me INSANEEEEEE. I literally cannot sleep when it sounds like there is a very loud, obnoxious 16 wheeler laying in my bed right next to me. Besides that, he hasn't gotten me off twice in a row. What good is the GOfuck if he can't even give me an orgasm? And besides THAT, he's starting to get way too attached. I totally called it. My upstairs housemate, Jamie and him have been kind of on the rocks, because I met GOF through Jamie, and GOF is pissed that Jamie was telling me about GOF's reputation. Drama, drama, drama. Sisters before misters. Remember that.
Speaking of Jamie... that night that GOF and I were supposed to hang out ended up with Jamie and I watching Natural Born Killers and getting way more high than is ever necessary. That movie freaked me the fuck out. The night after that, we had a little party. There were only like 5 people there besides Jamie and me...and they were all guys from my work. As is custom at my shindigs, a guy that I've worked with for over a year (during which time I have hated him immensely) tried to sleep in my bed with me and things. Ew. I tried a jagerbomb (sp?) for the first time and ended up wasted. Then, two hours later, we all got super blazed and went to the mandatory server meeting at my work. Have any of you ever seen the movie Waiting? It's the one about the restaurant. Super hilarious. ANYWAYS. That's what my restaurant is like. There is never a dull day; that's for sure.
I drew a nice picture last night of a tree. The backround was psychedelic colors. I like it a lot. While I was drawing it, I decided on a tattoo that I'm going to get today after I get out of this hellhole. It actually has nothing to do with trees at all, haha. I just actually want 3 lines that go around my arm. They need to be very thin, and there will be a red one in the middle, and two black ones on either side of the red. I will take a picture when I get it.
Listen to Devendra Banhart.
peace!

You're a beautiful boy, a sweet little kid--but I am a woman.

"Take it Easy (Love Nothing" is a great song to listen to when you're engaging in a strictly fucktacular relationship. I don't care if Conor Oberst is a whiny little bitch; I totally love and respect him as he is a lyrical genius.
But yeah. Two posts in one night, and it's a fucking Friday. I never have Friday nights off from work, so I'm not really sure of what goes on during them. I haven't really had any desire to call anyone or anything. I went and got my nails done and now I'm back on the couch, surfing the internet and doing nothing. That aforementioned phone call I was thinking about making to GOF isn't going to happen, because going back to having someone in my fucking room day after day is what made me crazy in the first place. (Thus one of the reasons for the break up with Matt.) Not to mention, I really don't want to ever be calling him. Though it's hard to tell if he genuinely likes me, which he swears he does, he definitely sucks at making plans. I'm not sure if he cancels on me because he found another, more accessible girl to bang, or if the excuses he gives me are legit. I really don't give a fuck either way to be honest, lmao.
Oh yeah. I guess I kind of forgot to recap on my spooktacular Halloween extravaganza. To make a long story short, GOF was following me around from the second he walked in the door. He just loved my torquoise eye makeup and my little black dress. haha. It was mostly men at the party, and they all seemed to like talking to me a lot. GOF wasn't pleased, and he was even less pleased at how every one of his discreet, "let's go have a cigarette and talk" lines was thwarted by lots of enthusiastic smokers who were eager to offer themselves as company. No one really knew at this point that we had hooked up before, and that we had been talking outside of the parties, and I really had no intentions of telling them, hah. I really don't need to be viewed as "Jimmy's girl" right now; I am an independent, single woman who wants nothing better than to live a carefree, reckless life for awhile before I actually have to grow up. But anyways, he ended up spending the night again, and things were good again, and in the morning things were GREAT...lmao, and we spent the day together running errands and laying in bed watching movies. Kind of fun, kind of weird. I need to not do that thing where I start hanging out with a guy, and before I know it, he's practically moved in. It's irritating as fuck to not be able to come home to your own house and watch shitty reality television all fucking night if that's your heart's desire. You get the boyfriend there and all he wants to do is bone and watch action movies. Yeah guys. That's fun for a day and then it gets old. He really enjoys telling me how different and "Chill" I am--how cool and collected I am, and what great tastes in music I have. Why is it that hunky guys with relatively decent personalites (even if lacking in other departments) only date the cliche Abercrombie girl who has the personality of a rock and even less invigorating conversational skills than one? I mean, I know "birds of a feather flock together" or whatever the fuck that corny saying is, but don't people want something more out of a relationship than the middle school game playing shit? I swear, I see more relationships between college students that make me want to laugh than is necessary. I wonder how they cannot see that what they have is not real, and is a waste of time? Fuck man. How awful for them.
I'm being pessimistic, and it's really unnecessary, haha. I bought all of those mood balancing vitamins; triple lecithin and St. John's Wart. I also got something that will help me sleep better, and vegetarian supplements. Hopefully getting my body and mind healthier will take some of the weight off of my shoulders and I'll be able to start getting shit done again. I haven't been doing anything that I need to do. I lag so much on everything from doing my laundry to taking my air conditioner out of my window to doing school work. I think the weed smoking adds a definant negative effect on my ability to function adequately, but I just like doing it too much, hah.
So, in other news. San Francisco in a couple of weeks! My best friend moved there a few months ago and this visit to her will be my first time ever in California. I cannot wait, though. I'm almost more excited to see her than to actually be in Cali. I've never been this long without seeing her and it's driving me a bit insane.
I'm pathetic. I need to do things. Like clean my room and the kitchen. Peace!

It's just an isolated incident.

Bad news, everyone. The God of Fuck has become endearing. How could I let this happen? I'm not in love with him and I never will be, but all of the things...well most of the things that he did that aggravated me, I know think are a little bit cute. Kind of. I mean, maybe I'm just used to it. But he's fucking hot. And he's a movie star, hah. He was a cadet in Annopolis and he was a football player(?) in Invincible. I mean, come on. And he helped me do my laundry, and washed some of my dishes. And went with to me GNC so I could buy all sorts of vitamins and things. I almost like, want to see him. Shit. All of those justifications I just made for him are oozing with insecurity and disbelief. Naw, fuck it. He's really, really good in the sack. And he's nice. Usually I have a few more requirements for a possible partner, but I'm no where near close to fucking trying to find a boyfriend. It's nice to way up to someone, even if he doesn't love you and you don't love him and you're both just kind of using each other for different reasons.
Anywho. I skipped math class again to go smoke pot with my friends. I don't really feel sad or anything because school had me so fucked up today and I wanted nothing better to do than get high and go home. I was up all last night doing work for school; studying for a huge music prelim, practicing and trying to memorize a 20 minute speech, writing three papers, and studying for that make up math test. So I go in to school, ready to give my speech and the fucking prof. doesn't even show up. Bullshit! So then I go take, and fail miserably, my music test. Then, in fucking education class I am so pissed off about all of the other annoying shit that's going on, and the professor (who I fucking detest) told us we have to wait for this guest speaker to come in. We wait for like 10 minutes and my class is so bad and everyone was trying just leave...it was ridiculous. So when this lady, our "guest speaker" comes in the door, the prof. just picks up her brief case and peaces out. So it turns out, this lady wasn't a guest speaker at all, but a teacher evaluation proctor. So we had to stay an extra 15 minutes in this class filling out the evaluation, and all I wanted to be doing was smoking weed. Needless to say, that prof. did NOT get very good ratings from me. (Shit, I just typed that whole story out how I would literally say it. Practically one breath. lmao.)
I think I might be too high to do this. Maybe I'll give GOF a call and I'll catch up later.

The whole world's dirty so no one's taking showers anymore.

Happy Halloweener dudes. ha.
So I didn't end up hanging out with the God of Fuck. (or GOF for abreviating purposes.) Matt came over for a bit and we watched shitty reality tv and he went home. I think we're both pretty comfortable with just being friends, and it kind of freaks me out. In a really good way, though.
But back to GOF. So I got my upstairs housemate, Jamie a job at the restaraunt where I work, and we were there together tonight. He's actually how I met GOF, and he was saying some pretty unflattering things about him. Apparantly GOF has at least three girls who think he's their boyfriend? Now I know what everyone is thinking. "Stay the fuck away from this kid. He's trouble. Blah blah blah." Well my friends--here's the thing. This is totally going to play out like a bad chick flick from the 90s, but hear me out. So I really have no idea who all reads this, but I'm praying that there is at least one woman on here that likes to fuck with fuckers, and that woman can completely relate. All the rest of you probably think I'm nuts, but I think it's important to clarify that there is no possible way that I will ever EVER start to have serious feelings for this dude. Fo' sho. So I'm thinking...it's lookin' like GOF needs to be taught a lesson. Now I don't need anyone feeling sorry for this schmuck. He lied to me already like, a thousand times, and we've only hung out once. So to reiterate: I'm going to have a fucking BALL with kid, and he deserves every bit of it. I'm super great at manipulation and making men fall in love. Usually I don't do it on purpose, but I'm going to work extra hard on this one. In a couple of weeks, if I haven't tired of GOF, he will be eating out of my fucking palm. =] Vindictive, much?
It's actually going to start tonight. I decided to have a Halloween party; a kind of sequel to the disasterous evening Friday night. [In case I didn't mention it, I threw a huge Halloween party, costumes were required, and ended up passing out at 10 oclock and no one could get in. haha. But seriously, while it sucks hardcore, imagine how fucking funny they all looked in their various ridiculous costumes, holding packs of beer and banging on the door. lmfao.] I'm going to look so bloody sexy and of course GOF will be here, and I will be the generous hostess; flirting terribly with all of the men right in front of his face. This will work, as it works with Gods of Fuck universally, and soon, the world will be right. I'm actually being a saint of sorts; a true fighter for the cause of women that constantly get taken advantage of. Thank me later.
I had a relatively decent day today. I didn't cry at all, and I didn't really feel the need to. I will be heading to GNC to stock up on vitamins and shit, as I'm a vegetarian and I have several major deficiencies, and I'm also going to grab some herbal anxiety/depression remedies. I think that getting my body back on track will be a very redeeming feeling.
So you guys all have a great night, and a happy halloween.
feel free to talk to me. =]

I've made love; I've been fucked. [So what.]

Matt and I broke up a few days ago. There's not a lot I really want or need to say about it, besides that I am confused and scared that I have made a poor decision. Well, I guess it's best to be honest. I'm almost completely sure that I made the right decision; I'm just lonely as hell. Sleeping alone is so difficult when you know that you will not be waking up next to someone who loves you. I won't even do the thing where I reassure everyone that this break up is for real and there is no chance that we will ever get back together. Because I don't know. I'm taking it one day at a time. I broke up with him Thursday and I've seen him only once since then. We got dinner and watched a movie... he ended up staying. We did nothing but cuddle, and while I know it made us both happy to feel so safe and secure, it was not a good idea. I'm not sure if he even realizes how serious I am about all of this. So much for not having much to say about that, ha.
I've already fallen back into that bad habit I have of becoming relatively promiscous after any serious breakups. I fucked some kid that I met at a party last night, or should I say he fucked me. And it was really good, don't get me wrong. I haven't had sex that...invigorating for awhile now. He's hot and more dumb than not. I haven't decided if he's arrogant yet. Last night was presumably a one night stand, which is perfectly fine with me, but I'm not going to make this a trend. Making out or whatever is one thing, but I feel kind of ashamed of myself for actually doing someone. Especially so soon after Matt.
Fuck it. I don't feel that bad. If Matt knew I'd feel awful, but he doesn't need to, and he never will. The kid from last night was nothing more than an amusing lay...even if he did tell me that I "intrigue" him. Hell, I don't even know why I let him into my pants to be honest. I was drunk and horny and lonely. He had no where to go because he was too drunk to drive. Sleeping on the couch turned into sleeping in my bed. Shit, I suck. Hah. [Speak of the God of Fuck himself. He just texted me wanting to hang out. gggggggahhhd.]
School is ruining me. I had a full fledged panic attack during a math test the other day. It was humiliating. My depression is starting to take over hard core; so many changes are going on and I'm having a very hard time keeping up with everything.

It's hard to exist.

Should I hang out with Jimmy the One Night Stand who is no where near smart enough to hold anything longer than a 5 minute conversation with me?
Should I study for all of the tests I have this week?

I know what I should do. I should go take Matt the stupid fucking book he needs to borrow from me at work so I don't have to deal with his incessant interrogations tonight and go right the fuck to sleep.

I'm High & I'm Happy & I'm Free.

Is it sad that I've begun to use weed to self medicate? I would say yes. I mean, I've been smoking it for almost five years; you would think that the novelties of being high would have worn off by now. Writing all of these things down may help me, as well. Knowing that at least one person has a portal into my mind and can judge me justly and fairly from the things that I am so openly writing about gives me a sick kind of comfort. So, with that being said, I think today I'll delve into the fucked up period that was my childhood.
I didn't meet my biological father until I was 14. My mom married Dan when I was three years old, and I was conditioned to call him "daddy" from the very beginning. I don't remember much or any abuse inflicted by Dan until after my first little sister was born. (Again, I will not be using their real names as to not embarrass.) Ashley was (and is) a beautiful little girl who quickly took on the roll of the favorite. Because after all, I was not Dan's real child, and he had no problem reminding me of that often, starting when I was about four. Things got even worse when Annie was born. Not only did Dan completely stop paying attention to me, he would beat me, tease me, and encourage my sisters to do the same. Of course, it wasn't their fault that they were instigated into making my life a fucking hell on earth, but I was young, and I began to hate them nonetheless. My mom was also subject to Dan's abuse, but fortunately for her, she had a driver's license, a car, and the town bar to go to in order to escape his torment. [Note: my timeline is kind of off from my childhood, so dates and ages are all approximate.] She knew the way he treated me, and yet she left me at home with him night after night after night, and I was fair game. If Ashley or Annie did something wrong, I would get beaten for it, though he knew perfectly well who the real culprit was. If I spilled a drink, I would have to stand in the corner for hours on end. By the time I was six, I had been dragged down the hallway by my hair; I had bruises all over my body, and I hated coming home from school. I remember sitting on the school bus every day for years, dreading the rest of the evening with Dan and my sisters.
Dan and my mother would often get into physical altercations, usually around the holidays, and they would end with Dan being on top of my mother, smacking her and punching her, and screaming at me "Is this what you fucking want?! Are you fucking happy now?!" No, I wasn't fucking happy.
Though there were countless nights in which I was abused, the night I remember most began with my mom going out to the bar. She always looked and smelled so pretty; it was hard for me to be mad at her for abandoning me. "Be good," she'd say. "Don't give him any reason to yell at you. Stay in your room and read." This one particular night, however, I was determined to get him to love me. I wanted to be as good as my little sisters; I wanted him to bring me presents like he brought me and take me to see his parents whom I adored. So not only did I want to be good, I wanted him to see how good I was being.
As was custom, Dan began his evening by grabbing a beer from the refridgerator, sitting on his recliner, and turning on the television. As a 7 or 8 year old little girl, I was not much interested in the football he was so obsessed with, but I opted to stay in the same room anyways, and lay on the couch that was across the room from him. I ended up falling asleep for a little while, and woke up, ecstatic to not have been yelled at once. Haha. That was not to last though, however. When I stood up to go back to my room, I knocked over a beer can. Now even as a young child, I KNEW that he had planted that fucking beer can right under my fucking feet. I told him I was sorry, but he beat the shit out of me anyways. I waited for my mom to get home from the bar and I told her how good I had been and how I had knocked over Dan's beer and how he had beat me for it. Finally, my mom stopped going out at night.
When I was about 12, after I had endured about nine or so years of abuse, Dan did something which at the time, I didn't think to be much worse than anything else that he did, but apparantly my mom was unaware of how bad things were. (That's what I'd like to think.) I don't remember what I did, or even if I did anything at all, but Dan was on one of his rampages. He was screaming and swearing at me, and as was custom, I retreated to the top bunk where I slept to escape his punches and anger. Dan was not having that, however. He ended up chasing me into my room, and grabbing me by the hair and literally trying to drag me off the bed through the railing and in between the ladder. Now if any of you are familiar with bunk beds, this is an unfortunately tight space through which entry is pretty muc h impossible. Now most of this I don't remember; my mom told me about it, but she said that when she walked into the room, Dan had my body so contorted that she thought my back and one of my arms were broken. She grabbed my little sisters, threw some suitcases into our rooms, and demanded that we pack up and be ready to leave in 15 minutes. And that's when we moved into my grandmother's house.
Now, it is what it is. Nothing I write about is intended to induce any kind of sympathy out of anyone; as of now, no one I know is even aware of the presence of this journal. I'm trying to read in between the lines though. I want to know what all of this did to me, and if contributes to the way I am now. Of course, I should have turned out a lot worse than I am. After we left Dan, my mom picked up where he left off and often took out a lot of her rage on me--resulting in scratches on my face, bruising, beatings, having things thrown at me, and my favorite: a visit from child services. She has since apologized frequently, and I have stopped blaming her. Her life has been hard. Mix in the Orthodox Presbyterian upbringing with child abuse (mental and physical) and you're bound to have a recipe for some intense emotional problems later in life. I don't want anyone to think that all I do is wallow in self pity and live in the past and blame other people for my problems. I just want to get this shit out. I want to write it down, read it, and figure out how I feel. (Not to mention, it wouldn't hurt to brush up on my writing skills, lmao.)
Is anybody out there? Can anyone relate? Talk to me.

(1) I've watched you cakewalk on the immaculate conception for far too long.

My dog died on Saturday.
My mom called me on Monday as I was getting ready to go to the store with my boyfriend. She started off fine; she told me about what was going on with my younger sisters and her relationship, and asked me how I was doing. Then, out of nowhere, she began to cry hysterically, and all I could make out was "Nikki died...something something something...depression...something." Nikki has been my dog since I was five years old and she was a puppy, so she was 14 years old. My mom told me that she had to hold her while they put her down, and described how hard it was. Before I even had time to react to Nikki's death, she had switched gears to her depression that keeps coming and going, and her inability to stop crying. Unfortunately, I can completely relate, but more about that later. As I tried to reassure my mom and calm her down, I re-realized that I am an awful, selfish human being. Here I am, living in a house so much nicer than her own, playing house with my boyfriend and having little or no financial problems. I left her in that awful mobile home with my two little sisters, thousands of dollars of debt, and no one to talk to besides her own mother. My first instinct was to literally pack up everything immediately and move home to be with her. She needs me. However, I know that is most definitely not what she wants for me. I just detest looking at her life and feeling her sorrow and regrets for the things she did, the way things are, and the way things will never be for her. She is so lonely and sad and desperate for a soulmate to come sweep her off of her feet, and the men in her past have done nothing but emotionally slaughter her. (Again, more about that later.) Her boyfriend now, while incredibly nice and a generally good person, seems to have major commitment issues and an unfortunately immature sense of humor that humiliates her and undermines her intelligence. She loves him nonetheless.
I'm ashamed of myself for complaining about my petty problems and "stress." While I am depressed, I have nothing to complain about. As I previously mentioned, I have a house with a close friend, a damn near perfect boyfriend, an awesome group of friends who really understand me, a relatively decent job...the list could go on. The only real anxiety I have in my life besides all of that abstract shit that comes with depression is the anxiety that pretty much every goal-oriented person in school and work has. I'll break it down.
The Boyfriend. Matt is an awesome person. He does everything in his power to make me happy; he deals with my sometimes unbearable sarcasm; he just generally does a lot of shit for me. I would marry him in 5-10 years. But see, that's where the problem lies. 5-10 years is a long time, kind of. Is the rest of my life planned out? Is the finding and keeping of Love chapter in my life over? Am I selfish to want to feel the initial emotion of falling in love with someone? Yes. Yes I am. It is what it is, I guess. I kissed a boy at a party I had when one of my best friends was visiting me. I didn't tell Matt about this party because I felt as though he would ruin it somehow. Matt is pretty much incabable of ruining anything; that's my job. I don't even feel bad about kissing the boy. Well, not that bad. Love and sex and lust and friendship all get tangled up and confused and things happen. Especially when alcohol is involved. I kissed this boy because I was drunk, and I knew he had feelings for me, and I wanted to feel something different. Matt and I broke up for a couple of months when I went home for the summer, (we've been together for about a year and a half now...) and I did everything I could to "live in the moment" or "live it up." I got fucking wasted a lot, and I kissed a lot of boys, I fucked a couple of boys, I did drugs, I had fun. Matt took me back.

But maybe I should back up to why we initially took this little break. I started this blog to be honest about everything, and to not censor anything...and so I guess it's time to come clean to myself and everyone else.
There is one person in my life that knows hardcore how to fuck with me. I don't think it's intentional, but I suppose that's a possibility. It's going to get confusing if I don't use some fake names for people, so that's just what I'll do. Cheesy, but necessary.
The Triangle-esque Thing.
So once upon a time in High school, I became friends with these two fucking awesome girls, Jamie and Karly. We all had a lot of fun together, blahblahblah, things were awesome. All three of us had serious boyfriends for quite sometime for a little over a year, until we all decided to call it quits at about the same time. Karly's boyfriend, Nick and I had gotten to be pretty great friends at this point, and we stayed good friends even after he and Karly broke up. For the first 6 months or so, everything was completely platonic; the subject of most of our conversations was Karly and how we could get them back together. (For a long time, I missed them together as a couple and the good times we all had.) Eventually, the talk of Karly became a little more scattered and we just talked about lots of other shit. We hung out pretty damn near every day for a few months. We did lots of fun shit together, smoked lots of weed together, and just generally got really close. I thought about telling him that I was starting to have feelings for him, but I was advised against it by the two people who knew. After all, I was moving to Philadelphia in a month or so; I wanted to stay friends; I didn't want anything to be awkward, blahblahblah. Sooo, I decided against telling Nick how much I uh, well to be honest, how much I loved him. (I later found out he knew all along.) Well, lo and behold, Jamie and Nick started hanging out pretty frequently. I had originally wanted them to be friends because I really cared about both of them, and they'd had a history and didn't really get along. That didn't last. They kind of...cut me off, and after I moved to Philadelphia, I found out they were dating. Things were a little fucked up at this point, but we all decided to be friends.
And then Nick and Jamie had a big awful breakup, and started to hate each other. I got dragged into the middle of a lot of shit, and I had to determine who was a better friend and all of this other annoying nonsense, and ultimately decided that Jamie was and that I had a duty to tell her what the fuck was going on with Nick and Karly--they had began talking again behind Jamie's back. Of course by this point, the original girls; Karly, Jamie, and I were kind of in shambles...no one knew who to trust and Nick was talking to all of us and things were just insane. (Confused, yet? It gets better.)
Cut to about a year later. I'm friends with everyone again, though no one else is really getting along, I'm going out with Matt, and things are looking up for me. I had gotten over Nick, and I was coming home to hang out for the weekend, primarily with Karly and Jamie. Well, it turned out that Nick and I had decided to make plans for one of the nights I was home; drink wine, smoke weed, reminisce; the good stuff. And so we did just that. We smoked, went on a really nice burn run, drank a couple of bottles of wine....and that's where things get really messy. Remember, I'm still with Matt. Nick and I had never even held hands at this point; it was preposterous to even think about things like that with my now best friend X 2s' ex boyfriend. But, somehow it happened. To this day, I believe that the playing of the Arcade Fire and the "romantic setting" was meant to intentionally make me feel vulnerable, but I won't place blame on anyone but myself. After all, I was still with Matt, and Nick has been with both of my best friends. (We share everything? Ew. ha.) And that brings me to
The Break.
You know, the aforementioned one where I turned into a moral-less lush and acted a fool for two months? Well, I think only one person knows the true reason I took this break, and she lives with me, hinthint, haha. I told Matt I needed to find myself. I told him I felt as though I didn't deserve him after what I did to him, which is in part true. (Yeah, I told him about the Nick thing...) I told him I couldn't look him in the face without feeling guilty, and that I doubted we'd ever be able to get past it. Yes, all of these have some level of truth to them. But the thing I couldn't tell him was that I wanted to see where things would go with Nick. Of course, they never went anywhere. We hung out a very limited amount of times while I was home, and those nights often ended up in awkward, drunken sex during which I felt extremely ashamed of myself and emotionally violated. Not to make him seem worse than he is; I just feel as though he took advantage of how strongly I felt about him and manipulated me into becoming a fuck buddy. So, instead of just realizing after a couple of weeks that nothing was ever going to happen with Nick (though I knew it all along because of the intense history and tangled love triangles) and getting back together with the one who truly and honestly loves me more than anyone, I decided to keep my single status and turn into an immature, boy crazy, 15 year old version of myself. And then, I came back home, Matt took me back because he is more than human, and here I sit, discontent in my relationship and in my life.
The Boyfriend, Part II.
I take him for granted. That's the first and foremost thing that I need to work on if I want to keep this relationship going. But that's the thing. Do I? Everyone always wants something more, and I don't believe that anyone is ever truly happy. Do we honestly know when we're with the right person? Usually there are definite signs that something is not working out; emotional or physical abuse, loss of sexual compatibility, incessant fighting, the list could go on. It's nothing like that with us, though. He's perfect, and we get along fine. We have fun together, and I know that I love him, and that I could see myself marrying him. But what is this awful fucking feeling of incompletion I feel? What if I spend the next several years of my life with him, and I suddenly realize what's been in the back of my head for the last couple of weeks--we need to break up and I need to learn how to be independent? It's so fucking hard for me though. I can't be independent. Even the couple of months I have been single out of the last 4 or 5 years of my life, I haven't really been single. There's always been at least one male there that I lead on and then drop at the first signs of "more than platonic," for lack of a better way of phrasing that. But what if Matt really is the one? I've already used my undeserved "break" and I could never do that to him again. If we broke up and after a few months I realized that I need him, I'd have to get the fuck over it and moveon. I can't make up my fucking mind, and it's driving me insane.
I Miss my Fucking Friends.
One of my best friends lives across the fucking country and the other one is at home, 6 hours away. Another one is in fucking North Carolina. Nick, that is. Yeah, we're still friends, and it has to be a secret. He's hated by everyone that I love, and I may be selfish for keeping him close, but I just feel like I have to. I have no more feelings for him other than that of a good friend, and that's how it will always be. But regardless. Can anyone relate to how fucking awful it is to move somewhere and not be able to truly connect to anyone? Fortunately, I've stayed in great contact with all of the people involved in the Love triangle fiasco, and they are the best, and I love them so much. This isn't starting to make much sense anymore, so I'll wrap things up for now.
I know what you're thinking.
And no, I honestly expect no one's sympathy or pity. I started this blog so I could get this shit off my chest, so I could let some of this fucked up shit out and get feedback. This is all just the beginning. My first blog. This is nothing compared to everything I want to say, and everything I will say. I haven't even covered the emotional bullshit that triggers my panic attacks and makes me want to...not exist. Or the religious epiphanies that I've had. Or my fucked up past. (Everyone has one, kind of.) That's for later! Don't give up on me though. I'm counting on anyone who might read this to empathize and respond.