March 23rd, 2002

me

Lather, rinse, maim, repeat....

Do you ever feel like life is just repeating itself over and over? Like a broken record? Or maybe not so much life as a series of emotions, rapid-fire, so fast and so strong that you've cycled through it multiple times before you can stop long enough to see a pattern?

Michael... *sigh* we might as well not talk at all. I can map out our conversations in my head well enough that he doesn't even need to be there. I imagine he could probably do the same. Ouch.

Tish.... I don't know. I really don't know.

Greg... Dear god, I don't know. He confuses the living hell out of me and then turns around and makes so much sense it's like a slap in the face.

It used to be that I would write what I really thought. If it concerned others, I saw to it that they were informed.
Now I don't know what I think anymore. I don't even really know if I think anymore, or if I'm just running off auto pilot entirely and that's why this is suddenly throwing me so off-balance.

And the thoughts I do recognize, the patterns I can see, I cannot tell. I cannot explain them. My family members can see this journal. People who would be uncecessarily hurt can read it. People who do not need to bother themselves with it would. I do not want that.
This journal is the last remaining semblance of creativity I have. The private and protected posts are starting to outnumber the public ones. That cannot be a good sign.
My sketchbook is collecting dust. I am very, very glad I did not apply to any art schools. If I had gotten in somehow by the grace of god, it would have been very difficult to explain to my parents why I was writing a 'sorry, I will not be attending your university' letter to a place that had accepted me for my art - which, to their knowledge, is still a major part of my life. It still is, really, but it's hollow. Caving in. Will be gone soon.

College, if I go, will be a tremendous starting over for me. I changed midway through high school, which led to a set of several rather disagreeable situations. Where I am now makes a much better starting point than ending point.

Things to do this weekend:
  • Senior research. Job has been postponed until it is completed, say parents.
  • email Elfwood admins, ask for galleries to be deleted
  • write a 'ML is gone, go away' message of some sort on the main page (I will leave it up for a week or two before emailing the KS admins asking them to delete the account)
  • Find new meaning of life. Art is dead.
    • Current Mood
      confused confused
    me

    Okay. Can we get a few things straight here?

  • I promise that I will not kill myself. Okay? There. I hate making promises because I do my absolute damndest to keep them. Happy now? You'll be stuck with me for a long time. Or at least until God finally gets around to smiting me for the stuff that goes on in my car. This promise covers starving and bleeding to death as well, for those of you who are wondering.
  • I will make an effort to be happy. I used to have a youth minister (back when I had some faith in organized religion) who told us to 'fake it til you make it'. He meant to smile until you really felt it. I learned that this does not really work all that well. I smiled til I lost it. And I lost my grip on the things that had once made me happy. So now I have to find new things. Please keep in mind that my definition of 'happy' and my methods of acquiring that particular emotion may be a far cry from yours. I feel uncomfortable around people in general, regardless of who they are. 'Hanging out' with friends is a stressful event for me. I absolutely loathe parties and large groups of people. Occasionally I will feel social and not mind having one person around for company. My rule in general towards my friends tends to be "I love you, now please go away and leave me alone." I have absolutely no problem listening to them when/if something is troubling them or going wrong in their lives. I have huge issues with sharing anything that is troubling me if it is not directly related to them. A friend to me is someone who will come to me with their problems and who I will try to help as much as possible. A therapist to me is someone to whom I will share my problems. I do not want a therapist. I have been bugging Michael with the babble formulated by my self-centered little brain for far too long and it is time to quit it.
  • *sigh*I will do my damndest to try to forget Michael. There. Now can all you people get off my back about him? In another two months we will graduate and odds are I will never see nor speak to him again anyway. Lay off.
  • I. Have. Mood. Swings. From. Hell. We need to accept that yes, some days I will be cheery one instant and depressed the next. It happens. I have gotten fairly used to it. I used to say I never believed anything Emily said until I'd heard her say it in at least three different tones of voice so I would know it had survived the mood swings. Please apply that rule to me and we will be able to get along with a lot less needless melodrama.

    I cannot think of anything else, but if I do, I will add on later.
    • Current Music
      Can you tell I finally learned how to do lists in HTML?
    OMG

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    Jenni the Odd: [Picture which you do not get to see yet] see anything blatently wrong?
    Jenni the Odd: (and so help me if your response is: "teehee! boobies!" there will be a smackdown)
    • Current Music
      Uncle Kracker - Follow Me
    OMG

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    Physical: Blech. I ate. I hope you people are happy. I'm not. Hrmph.
    Clothes: colorful stripey shirt under an old Japanese Culture Club t-shirt, men's khaki's, sandals. Hair is up.
    Mental: Blah.
    Emotional: Mrf. Greg still confuses me. Michael is silent and that is for the best, I suppose.
    Creative: See previous post. Don't care much. Wrote out the 'goodbye' page for ML. I don't miss it at all. I feel nothing. (Where's my bee suit?)
    Quizzes: Collapse )
    • Current Music
      Janet Jackson - Someone to call my lover