one step forward. nine steps back.

today, life grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me, double slapped me in the face and screamed, "don't you ever learn?!"

no, i don't.

mistake number one. i let my sister convince me that i needed new sneakers and therefore, i should come with her to her job interview, so we could go buy a pair (or two, possibly) at a store nearby. lesson learned: don't let people fool you. the world is a terrible place. mistake number two. i stepped outside of the house, into the sunlight. seriously, i froze at the front door and had to force myself to step into the light. it was pathetic. lesson learned: the more light you have, the more darkness you notice. stay in the dark. mistake number three, and possibly the biggest mistake of all. i kept walking, away from my last safe place, away from my haven of solitude.

today... was terrible. i've noticed that i can't have bad days when nothing happens, so i've stayed inside, mostly. but when things happen, they're bad. and i hate when bad things happen. first my sister said, "wow, you've got hips." and then, when i said i didn't want anything to eat at subway's, she said, "why is it you never eat but you're still bigger than me?" that's about when i realized i needed to get back home, because the emotionally neutral part of the day was ending. it's things like that that make my eyes open, from just seeing the world, to noticing things. like the girl who came on the train with her long, bright, flowing skirt. the wind whipped around her legs. they were smaller than mine. i looked away. (strange, how i can see these things but i can't see much else without my glasses.) after that, my mind started to twist and bend out of shape. i tried every remedy i could. i tried reading notre dame de paris, the tale of quasimodo as told by victor hugo. he's a character i can identify with. maybe that's why it didn't help. i tried listening to jeff buckley, but i felt like i wanted to cry, and i couldn't cry in public. so i turned him off. i tried playing video games, but i felt like i kept making mistakes. so i put my ds away. and then i tried texting my friend, the person i can be the most honest with. it was helping, a little. until i realized the answers that i wanted, he couldn't give me. so i stopped talking to him. and then i left my phone in the cab. didn't realize until i got home. and i called, called, called. but someone had already found it, and wasn't giving it up.

so i lost all my contacts.

i don't know if i was sadder because i really had no one to talk to at that point, or because i had no one to talk to before i lost it.

"isn't this what you wanted? now you've got it. complete isolation."

i swear, i tore the house apart, looking for that phone. i called it at least seventy times, growing more anxious with each call. once, someone picked it up, then they hung up. never happened again. i left a voicemail after that. i hissed, "i want my fucking phone back." and then i lost all control and screamed, "give me my phone back! don't fuck with pyromaniacs! give me my fucking phone back!" even if they did listen to that, i doubt anyone would respond. and when i finally realized i wouldn't get it back, i cried.

that should have been it. i could have lived with that.

but then my sister felt bad, since she dragged me outside, so she went to the mall to get me a new phone. and she had to wait for my mother to not only come home from work, but also to drive me to the mall with her, so she could authorize it or something. (we had to suspend it, since it was lost/stolen/missing/gone forever.) but on the car ride over, we heard about some poor boy who had gotten killed accidentally. he had two jobs, he was studying to be a teacher. he sounded pretty awesome. until my mom started comparing me to him. i don't have a job. i don't make all aces in school. thanks mom. for comparing me to a dead guy that we don't even know.

then the saleslady bitched at my sister and pissed her off.

then my sister insisted on buying this crazy expensive phone, even though she's broke too.

then she went and bought me sneakers.

and the whole time, i felt so guilty. none of that would have happened if i hadn't left the house. i didn't need new sneakers. my sneakers may have gaping holes in the sides and be ripped beyond casual repair, but they're still functional in average weather. i didn't need a new phone just yet. my phone was broken, yes, but i made it work for me. and i lost all those contacts. i just hope whoever took my phone doesn't harass any of them. and i hope the people i actually considered friends will try to contact me when they realize i'm not talking to them.

people want to hang out with me, that i haven't seen all summer. tomorrow. and thursday. i don't know if i'm up to it. but i can't cancel on them now. not just because i can't contact them, and have to go to where we're meeting, but i can't cancel on anyone again. not after i canceled on my little cousin and her birthday party. i didn't want to eat cake. (they probably got a vegan one, so i could have some too.) isn't that such a shitty excuse? i feel so fucked up.

i want school to start already. i want mind numbing routine. but this time, i don't want to go to parties, or spend time with people, or hang out after school. i want to get this job, near my school and near my bus stop. i want to get my license, so i won't need a bus stop anymore. i want things to get better. i want to stop pretending to be happy for people. i want to stop pretending i'm apathetic, when i'm overflowing with emotions sometimes. i want my sister to stop commenting on how much bigger i am than her, because just when i think i can't hate myself anymore, she makes me realize how much more i can hate myself. i want my nails to have color again. i want people to stop telling me i look better. i don't look better, idiots. i'm sick. i want to cry, or laugh, or really smile in front of someone, anyone. the only creatures i show any real emotion to these days are my dog and a spider that's taken up residence behind my desk.

i want to stop feeling like such a massive burden. i do my best to not be a problem, sometimes, and that just makes me a bigger problem somehow. i feel like my mom was nicer to me when i was out getting drunk and coming home at half past someshit in the morning. i feel like if i have any facsimile of a home left, it's only within the walls of my room. i feel like everyone's tired of me.

i know i'm tired of me.

i really need this week and next week to end. without anything else happening.




i've been locked up in my room for most of the past week, in a desperate attempt to bring myself back to an acceptable level of self-loathing. still waiting for that to work. (most people would say there is no acceptable level. but what do they know?) every once in a while, i'd emerge to find something to nibble on, but then i would return to my room. i hadn't spent any decent time outdoors. in fact, i avoided it as much as i could.

it wasn't too long before i felt sorry for my dog, so i took him for a long(er) walk. bad idea. i ran into my neighbor. she said my skin looked radiant. i'm positively baffled. is that because of the malnutrition, or the lack of sunlight? i decided the risk of running into people was too high, so i stayed inside again. then yesterday, i emerged again, to go visit a friend. bad idea. a random thunderstorm made the trains delayed. i left at one. i didn't get to her house until four. it never takes that long. and then i was trying to secretly plan a surprise party for her with her brother, but that didn't work. it just looked like we were up to something. something she wouldn't approve of. and then i had to leave, so there wasn't much time to plan or fix the situation.

when i got home last night, i thought, "i'm never leaving my room again. outside of my room, bad things are waiting to happen. this is a controlled environment. nothing changes in here." i wasn't factoring in my mother, though, who woke up on the wrong side of menopause today (as usual), and told me how my room smells like dog, and how i smell like dog, and i smell so bad i shouldn't be around people and even my hair smells like dog and how can i live like that and blah, blah, blah. my favorite part was, "why did you eat all the bananas? i thought you didn't want any food from the store. i didn't buy them for you." (i told her i wouldn't eat any more of her precious food.) weird thing is, she's been home all week. she knows i haven't been leaving my room. and i'm obviously not in the best mood. what kind of fucked up mother makes her daughter feel more like shit than she already does?

naturally, i directed all of my anger against myself. again. because that's what i do. does it help? no. why do i do it? i don't know. i think it's just what i do. i suppress my emotions so that everyone else can be happy, even though that means i won't be. and it just makes me hate myself more, because i don't want to, but it's what i'm used to. the more i hate myself, the more i want to keep other people away from me. i don't want people around long enough to find out how sick, twisted and screwed up i really am. but the more i keep people away, the more i want to be near them. and even if i let myself be around other people, i can't stop comparing myself to them. and i fall short every time.

my head hurts.

thank you for trying to cheer me up, by the way. i'm sorry i couldn't. but i did appreciate it.



the suffocating sense of woe.

i hate nights like this. i feel like such a failure.

my sister is always complaining about how she's the only one who goes to school and has a job, as if i wasn't trying to get a job. or as if i could. no one will hire me because i have no job experience, but i can't get any job experience if no one will hire me. i should have known that place wouldn't hire me. i applied once before; they didn't call. just because the manager's different doesn't mean i should have expected any different. and at least if they didn't want to hire me, they could have just told me instead of acting like they would hire me. and now that they haven't hired me, my mother will start complaining about how i don't have a job again. i used to get straight As in school and now i can barely focus during classes. i don't even do most of my homework because i have this fear of being re-labeled as a nerd. but that's stupid, because you have to pay for college. i'm a mediocre musician, i'm a mediocre student, and i'm disgustingly fat. plus whenever i feel bad, something starts my memory going and i have to relive some terrible event from my past. i'm always suppressing my emotions, but that only makes other emotions stronger. i want to get out of my house, and i can't, because i don't want to abandon my pets. i keep rejecting people who like me because i don't want to get hurt, but i end up liking people who reject and hurt me. all of these thoughts-- and sadly, more-- are just swarming together, much like this paragraph. random, but connected and painful.

i don't even know why i left my room. i should just stay in here. until the end of the month. it's not like i need to shower, i'm not going to see anyone. who cares about being sociable. i have everything i need in here. books, music, my cellphone (although it's not like i'd be using it anyway), teddy bears, weights,  paper,  crayons, and diet coke in my closet. like i said before, it's not like anyone notices whether or not i'm around.

i'm sorry i'm in such a low mood. i just hate false hope. and life has been tossing me a lot of that since i was young. it's not like i'm not trying to have a good life. i'm trying. i'm trying my best. but i don't even know what i'm doing wrong. what am i doing wrong?

maybe it's just me. maybe i'm just cursed. 



"who has been noticing you sitting in your room reading?"

i think that's the most bittersweet question i've been asked all summer.

i told one of my best friends-- who we'll call hazel-rah, since he reminds me of that rabbit from watership down-- that i miss being unnoticed. well, let me back up a little. hazel-rah and i have been friends for a long time. he's obsessed with exercising. (i think he's aiming for the rocky horror physique.) i'm obsessed with food: the organization, avoidance or study of. we usually cheer each other up, confide in each other, or give each other much needed advice. anyway, today we were talking about college. he said he's looking forward to going back, since he'll have his own dorm room and stuff. i said i'm not looking forward to it, because i miss being unnoticed.

"who's been noticing you sitting in your room reading?"

no one. absolutely no one. i felt strange when i realized that i've been trying to avoid people who haven't even been looking for me. no one's noticed that i've been locked in my room, reading victor hugo, joseph heller, and anthony burgess. why am i putting so much effort into not spending time with people who don't even want to spend time with me? i didn't want to think about it, so i told him i meant when school starts, i'll miss solitude. and i will.

my problem is that i'm a nice person, to the point of caring about other people more than myself. sounds totally great, but it isn't. it's very unpleasant. i'm incapable of caring about myself at this point. for example, i was running to class one day because i was late and had a huge presentation. i ran past a girl who was doing her best to not let people notice she was crying. but did i notice? yes. and did i turn around? also, yes. i spent a good three minutes with her, making sure she was okay before i went to class. at that point, my teacher was already rolling her eyes. incidentally, i have to retake this class this semester, because little things like that add up. and 'i was trying to help someone' isn't an acceptable excuse. it isn't the helping people that i mind, it's the fact that i can't stop. i can't stop trying to make people happy, so i end up knowing everyone. then, because i know everyone, i can't get any time to myself. which makes me hate everyone. and because i hate them, i feel guilty (on top of feeling responsible for their happiness) so i try to help them. it's a vicious cycle.

hazel-rah's question really made me think. were people really trying to spend time with me before, or was i telling myself i didn't want them to so i wouldn't feel as bad? then i didn't want to think anymore. so i went to walmart, bought laxatives and diet cokes and downed twelve pills before i even got back home. (laxative free for almost a month and a half, and i ruined it in ten seconds.)

it's not that i don't want to spend time with other people. it's just not as easy as spending time alone. or more accurately, with pets. aside from some semi-judgmental gazes from my cat and some confused head tilts from my dog, it's basically like no one at home notices what i do. (the truth behind this statement would shock you.) frankly, i'm not sure anyone gives a damn what i do with my time. and that's fine by me.



if i only had the nerve.

at this moment, 
i'd like nothing more
than to rush into the kitchen
fling the cupboards open,
crush all of the pasta,
spill all of the beans,
pour the juice into the sink,
throw the cereal away,
give the pretzels to raccoons,
feed the meatstuff to my dog,
fix the tuna for my cat,
set the oatmeal packets on fire,
put the dishes in the garage, 
mash all the potaoes,
donate the cans to charity,
make juice from the apples...
and then pour it in the toilet,
scrub the kitchen floor,
unplug all the tvs,
break all of the windows,
and inhale deeply,
fluff all ten couch pillows,
mix, for myself, some coffee,
fill the rooms with books,
play my summer songs,
lay on the hardwood floor,
and let my mind drift endlessly.

but this is one list i'd better leave alone.



happy anniversary, i suppose.

i looked in a mirror, for the first time in a while. i've got bags under my eyes that would make fester addams jealous. my skin is pallid, due to a lack of sunlight. i haven't looked like this since i was fifteen. back then, i did pretty much the same things i'm doing now. i stayed indoors during the day, emerging only at night. i slept very little. the only differences between now and then are that i'm reading novels instead of comic books, and i practice the guitar instead of the piano. if this keeps up, by the time this month is over, i'll be howling at moon, getting reacquainted with my old friend edgar allen poe, and i'll probably have cut myself off from other people entirely.

at any rate, it's been a year here. thank you. for being as amused with my life as i am, for not being completely disgusted with me, and for even bothering to cheer me up when i needed it. i don't always write what's on my mind, but when i do, you accept it. possibly. or you don't read it, which is still a small mercy in itself. either way, i'm touched.

while i don't lie to people i know, i'm not as honest with them as i am here. it's nice to get all this off of my chest from time to time. i had another blog once... but a teacher found it by accident and the fear shocked me into silence. oddly, he's one of my favorite people, and there was nothing truly personal on it, so it shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did. plus, if i ever got around to talking to someone i knew, he'd probably be at the top of the list. (also, he wrote an encyclopedia, which is a direct product of him being awesome. who DOES that?) anyway, i'm glad i can blog here. banana is the only person who knows i have a blog that i actually update regularly, and even she isn't allowed to read this.

although disney completely ruined notre dame de paris (as films inspired by literature usually end up), the hunchback of notre dame was a good movie. you know that scene, where quasimodo lifts esmeralda's body into the air while he frantically screams, "sanctuary! sanctuary!" this is my sanctuary.



"you look hot in that."

have you ever guzzled two liters of water and then gotten on a scale? bad idea. it screws with your head. OBVIOUSLY. common sense would tell me not to get on a scale after drinking that much. but i seem to be lacking common sense.

damn you, thoreau, for making me far more impulsive than i usually am. (launch myself on every wave, eh? since i can't swim that was obviously terrible advice.)

after the scale incident (and after i got catch-22 in the mail, bones, which i ordered because i lost my copy), i asked my friend/classmate/neighbor if she wanted to walk down to the coffee shop. she agreed to. that's when i realized... i needed to get rid of all this extra water. (spoiler: i didn't, but read on.) so i put on a t-shirt, jeans and a heavy hoodie. in case you weren't aware, it's summer here, in the united states of america. and it's also hot as hell. and i went outside. you know, with the sun and the cloudless sky and all. i started sweating immediately. even before i left the front of my house. did i think, 'hey, maybe i should go back inside and take this damn thing off' ? no. i did not. and so we walked. she was wearing a sleeveless top and jeans and she was drenched in sweat in about ten minutes. so you can imagine how it was inside that hoodie. but could anyone tell? no, because it was THICKER THAN ROSIE O'DONNELL. we didn't even go to the coffee shop in the end. we went to the bank, to another store (where i picked up a job application) and then to her parents' house. where her brother was.

i think i'm losing my mind, because every time i hang out with one of my friends who has a brother my age, i find myself oddly drawn to them, attractive or not. i blame animal magnetism. and mania. since i was squinting-- i broke my glasses, in case you didn't know-- and was literally bathing in my own sweat, that wasn't a good time to even pretend to flirt with anyone. but did i?


i filled out the first two lines of that job application while making small talk with my friend's brother. and then he asked me if i realized that i was sweating through my jeans. before that, he gave me a tiny, awkward hug, in an attempt to be nice without getting any of my sweat on his body. yes, i did notice. right after that, i got lightheaded and almost fainted. then i started laughing at nothing in particular and talking to my good buddy peter, who is visible to no one but me. that's when they both told me to get the fuck in the bathroom, take my top off, and put on a clean short-sleeved shirt. good thing i did, because my t-shirt, under that obscene and unnecessary hoodie, was soaked. in sweat. it smelled SO BAD, i really can't even describe it. (decaying flesh comes very close.) i was about to cry in the bathroom of her parents' house, with her brother outside the door, because i really didn't want to take my hoodie off but i had to. despite the fact that i probably would have died (or at least ended up in the hospital), i really wanted to sweat. and sweat. and sweat. no matter how bad i smelled. but they insisted. and he picked up my filthy clothes (without being grossed out , amazingly) and put them in a plastic bag. nice kid. and then she tried to play matchmaker, by suggesting we hang out until he had to go back to college. (i'm assuming she was playing matchmaker, because why else would you suggest hanging out with someone who wears hoodies in almost ninety degree weather?)

he thought it was a good idea. (what?!) so she had us exchange numbers. (i repeat, what?!)

i don't even understand what happened today. it made as much sense as that movie, sucker punch. (spoiler: that movie makes no sense. in case my subtle hint wasn't enough.) between flirting with the manager of the place i got the job application from (which isn't surprising, since i've hit on several teachers at my school) and flirting with my friend's brother (which was suprising, ironically), i'm beginning to think that i am: a) not getting outside enough, and am becoming socially inept, or; b) spending too much time outdoors, when i should be inside, doing yoga with the windows shut, sweating until i lose weight. (bikram for cheap people.)

anywho, i'm going to apply for this job, since it's (not really, but kind of) walking distance from my house. and since i asked for an application. also, i'm going to hang out with my friend's brother, although i won't be flirting with him again, since his nickname for me is sweats. it's an improvement from that crazy girl with the glasses who plays guitar pretty well but is obviously a closet nerd trying to fit in with normal people, but still. ew. ew. ew. i'll probably hand in that application tomorrow, since i'm still a little lightheaded (which may be why this post is covered in parentheses). but right now, i'm going to shut the windows, turn the fan off, and do some intense yoga because, like i said, i'm obviously lacking common sense right now.



tomorrow comes today.

carpe diem. fugit hora.

august is the last month in the summer. and then fall begins. and then when december comes, that'll be the last month in the year. and then january will be the first month of the new year. and then june-- the first month of summer. only to arrive at august again.

what am i getting at?

a month is a month. a day is a day. we live in the present. it sounds awesome to say, "i'll do better tomorrow." screw tomorrow. do better now. take it from me, the two headed turtle, queen of procrastination. every time it feels like there'll be no more time left, we rush into a flurry of action, only to be overwhelmed into inaction yet again. or worse, when the future seems uncertain and full of possibilities-- none of them all too bright-- we fall into despair. the future should seem uncertain. the possibilities are endless. we should do our best to make the most of our time. we should make ourselves proud.

you must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.
fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. 
there is no other land, there is no other life but this.
henry david thoreau.

maybe i've been reading too much poetry lately. maybe dead, absinthe-intoxicated writers have pumped their libertine blood into my veins. maybe i'm delirious from all the thoughts rushing through my mind. but it sounds like good advice to me.