being honest.

one of my friends is having surgery today. he has a tumor in one of his lungs. when we met a few years ago, i knew we'd be friends because he said he could ruin any food for me. i called him kenny, then, no sense in changing that now. (although i found out that wasn't his name after i wrote that post.) i don't know what's wrong with him, what hospital he's at, what his chances are, or when he'd be leaving the hospital. this bothers me. i've been here before. hospitals suck.

four years ago, my dad was in the hospital. it wasn't until he needed to have surgery that i knew what was wrong with him, and which hospital he was at. even at that point, i didn't know what his chances were, or when he'd be leaving the hospital. he died, not long after his second? third? operation. just as science predicted. this is what i get for cutting myself off emotionally; i can't remember the details. i remember i was eating french fries when i found out he died, though, and the sight of everyone crying made me disgusted. humans feeling emotion? no thank you.

the other day, this lady said something i considered slightly fucked up. it came out of nowhere. she turned to me, while we were volunteering in a food pantry, and said, you know, your father had been dead for a while before they found out. i knew, because his nails were blue. your mother was leaving to take a shower and come back to see him, but i knew already. and the whole time, i stood there like, are you serious? i knew what she was talking about, and the day she was referring to. i was there, and i had actually gone to talk to him and stuff. i wasn't sure if he heard me or not, but i liked to think that he did. but i guess not. so thanks, lady, for taking away my last good memory of my father. that would make our last conversation the night of my birthday, which sucks even more, because it was one of the hardest conversations i've ever had in my life.  but back to my friend.

i really wanted to visit him while he was in the hospital, because i don't know... you know what i mean? i don't know what will happen. that scares me. but i'm so used to shutting myself down when my negative emotions start to feel uncontrollable that now i don't necessarily feel afraid, but i know that there's a part of me that is. a lot of people don't understand why i watch children's shows. they teach children how to identify emotions. i think i need to learn how to do that, because i feel like a fool. or to be more accurate, when i feel, i feel like a fool. i don't know if this makes any sense.

yesterday, i spent over ten hours hanging out with two of my friends. the guy whose recital crush # 4 was supposed to be at (he never went), and a girl in one of my classes that my "papa bear" calls the big e.  i guess we can call my friend goofy because he's pretty silly. anyway, the big e has a crush on goofy, and i'm aware of this. and he likes me, which i'm also aware of. i didn't eat all day, because the two of them make me think of kenny-- goofy, because they've played the guitar together and we've partied together, and the big e, because she started becoming friends with kenny, but then she stopped and now i don't know what's going on. i'm not really sure why the thought of kenny makes me not want to eat, now that i think about it, and i'm not really sure why that made sense in my brain. but it does. accept it. she was a little mad at me last night because she was trying to spend time alone with goofy but he told me he didn't want to be alone with her. he said, while referring to her not-so-subtle advances, there's feelings. coming from her. only. just from her side. seriously. i'd never. ever. i don't need to tell you why the first part of her name is "the big", i think you can figure that out on your own. but some fucked up part of me stirred yesterday, with a terrible plan to distract me from being sad. i don't know how to appropriately respond to many of my emotions. unfortunately, sadness is one of those. but nothing happened. mainly because i think goofy is on his way to being bulimic, and i know this will sound a little fucked up, but i don't feel like playing superhero with all of my friends right now. especially not if my solution to the problem will make everything worse. none of that matters. actually, it does. if there was anyone i could talk to in school about this, it would be one of these two. but i don't think kenny's told anyone besides his teachers and me. which is interesting to me, because i didn't know we were this close, but i suppose he thinks we are. and that's all that matters.

i can't really talk to my mother about this either. this morning, while making tea, in a greater lapse of sanity and self-control than usual, i asked her, how long after someone has surgery do they leave the hospital? she couldn't answer it clearly. and then, because i asked, she started drilling me about who was in the hospital and what they were doing there. so i told her. my friend is having surgery on his lung. the house got really quiet after that. it's not like we have the greatest relationship. we can barely live together. even if we did, i wouldn't bring it up. this is about the same time of the year that my dad was having surgery for the first time when i was fifteen, and i don't think i want to bring back those memories for her. even if she's actually trying to be human right now, i don't want it to be because my friend is in the hospital. i want her motives to be purer than that.

i guess what i'm saying is i'm scared. kenny and i may not be the closest friends in the world, but we've had some pretty personal talks, and some pretty special moments. like the night i threw up on him when i got really drunk. i've been sober for the entire semester, but if when he gets out of the hospital, if he wants to drink, we're drinking. i'm worried, also, because he doesn't want me to visit him in the hospital. i don't remember if i told him about my dad or not, but whether or not he knows, he doesn't want me to go there. maybe it's also because i told him i hate hospitals. either way, he said, it's better that you come visit when i'm at home. i said okay. but what if he doesn't make it back home?

this sucks.

his surgery is today, in approximately five hours. i'm going to deal with this the same way i dealt while my father was having surgery: cleaning, consuming nothing but tea and water, and playing video games. hopefully, he'll be okay. i'll feel like a bitch if he dies, because i don't know how to cry at funerals.



you ever feel like goldilocks?

crush # 4 gets his own post. remember: i said the number meant absolutely nothing about their level of importance. he didn't make the top three because the only conversation we had (until today) was three lines, shouted across the college's campus. and i didn't even know his name, so i couldn't give him a nickname.

let's get right to it, shall we?

this is what happened.
  • i wanted to play hide and seek, because i arrived at school two hours too early for my finals.
  • i convinced a friend of mine to play hide and seek. naturally, i hid first.
  • i went to the second floor of the building we were in, and i sat at the first table i saw.
  • i realized that the table i was sitting at had a person already sitting there.
  • i realized that the person already sitting there was (you guessed it) # 4.
  • he recognized me, knew what game i was playing, and accepted those two things in under a minute.
  • we made small talk while laughing at my friend who, to our mutual astonishment, could not see me and passed me several times. at arm's length.
  • my friend gave up looking for me; i quit playing and decided to hang out with # 4 until we had to take our finals.
  • we studied together, made small talk every once in a while, and then went to take our finals.
while we were sitting together, one of my friends (who has a crush on me, because he's demented) dropped a flyer on the table for this thing he's playing the guitar in. and # 4 looked at me, asked if my friend was any good, and then asked if i was going. i replied yes to both. he also asked me how much longer i was stuck at this dreadful school, what music i was into, what instrument i played, and what major i was. and i asked him how much longer he was stuck at this dreadful school, what music he was into, what instruments he played, and what major he was. among other things. i had to resist saying "where have you been all my life semester?" by the end of this conversation.

also, # 3 is no longer the tallest. now it's this guy. i actually asked him how tall he was, which i do very rarely. he's 6' 6''. that's over a foot taller than me! walking next to him, i felt like a smurf. i liked it. the only problem was that i was really nervous about sitting still near him too long, like if i stayed in the same position long enough, he'd see me the way i see me. and that would be bad. so i kept jumping up and running off for weird reasons. also because i have the attention span of a dead flea right now.

well, okay, there might be another problem. i'm not entirely sure how old he is. i mean,  # 3 was no spring chicken, but this person is of indeterminable age. i suck at guessing these things, regardless of gender or situation. whatever. he's still on the list, no matter how old he is.

so maybe i'll see him on monday, at my friend's recital. that would be nice. 

he was studying the brain when i interrupted him. how hot is that? his handwriting is great, he can spell, he's amiable, he's neat, he eats bel-vita crackers, and he's the tallest person i've seen at our college. as soon as he told me he was 6' 6'', i thought about this quote from a book i've read at least a hundred times.

"You ever feel like Goldilocks?"
Ben looks up. He looks surprised to see Sethie in his doorway, but he doesn't miss a beat and replies, "Doesn't she complain that the beds are too soft and too hard, not too big or too small?"
"Close enough."
Ben shrugs. "Close enough," he repeats.
"Ever get tired of not quite fitting on the furniture?"
"Yes. And i really think they should have discounts for people who can only fit into SUVs and first-class seats on the plane."
Sethie laughs, "That makes it sound like a handicap."
Ben laughs back, "Sometimes it feels like one."
Sethie nods, suddenly serious. She imagines Ben squeezing into spaces that don't quite fit, wishing he were just a little bit smaller. In that respect, she thinks, we're actually quite similar.
the stone girl by alyssa b. sheinmel

i think i read too much. but i bet that's really how it is when you're very tall sometimes. i just have to make sure i never ask him that question. 

i thought of a nickname for him right after he told me his name. and then i decided i hated it. now that i think about it (again) i kind of want to call him lurch, as in the addams family's amazingly tall companion. but i want something that fits better. whatever. time for some late-night tea partyin'. 

after all the drooling i did over this guy today, i need to re-hydrate.



fill my stomach with butterflies. have me floating on air.

crushes are cute. the concept of having a crush. the feeling of liking someone. the stupid things you do that make that person smile, that maybe aren't as stupid as you thought. the moments when your eyes connect with theirs and your heart jumps in your chest. the way that bubbly feeling can overflow into every other moment of your day. it's a precious experience.

and then there's the dark side of crushes.

the feeling of liking someone you know won't ever like you. the stupid things you do that make that person smile, but in a way that tells you that it was much dumber than you thought. the moments when your eyes lock onto theirs and your heart collapses because they weren't looking back. the way that hopeless feeling can overflow into every other moment of your day. it's a terrible experience.

i've had more crushes than anyone i've ever known. they're typically people i see around school, since i'm (unfortunately) spending most of my time there. and with this semester ending in a little while, i thought it'd be nice to do a bit of gardening. see, my crushes are a mixture of weeds and flowers. the weeds are the people who are only appealing in a really minor and unimportant way. like, they might know a lot about a topic. or they have an interesting hairstyle. or their syntax is completely unique and fascinating. but they're missing too much of the other stuff for me to really like them in that head over heels way. in the movie kissing jessica stein, jess says this perfectly.

i think that's been my big thing. not smart or not funny, or not smart and not funny. or smart, but funny in a totally unappealing way. you know? just like funny/ stupid, or funny/ dopey, but not funny/ witty or funny/ ironic or funny/ goofy, you know? or they seem smart, and then you realize that they aren't at all. and that's funny, but funny/ tragic.

i can relate to that. the flowers are the people who either have all of the things the weeds are missing (plus the things the weeds have) or they're intriguing. mysterious. maybe moths and dragonflies would is a better way to put this. either way, i've narrowed down the list to a few interesting people. no nicknames for these yet. just to make my life easier. (it's hard to come up with nicknames that fit. especially if one of the people is named nick. which i'm not saying is the case here. but i'm not saying it isn't. meh.) the order isn't important. meaning number one on this list may not be number one on my list.

# 1: this one is fun. he's taller than me and recently, whenever he sees me, knows i'll want a hug. so he gives me hugs. it's nice. he's also got a strange way of standing. and i always get the feeling, when he looks at me, that he's really engaged in the conversation. which is nice. he's definitely the mysterious one. i found out that he has six people in his family the other day. why does this matter? it really doesn't. but i think once conversations in school move from school topics to more personal topics, it's definitely a good thing. as opposed to, how are finals? "good. you?" decent. can't wait for classes to end. "yup. same here." ..... "....." well... "see ya." that would suck.

one day, i ran into him while i was trying to decide whether or not i should go to class. i told him, i'm trying to decide whether or not i should go to class. he said then i shouldn't go to class. (if only it was that simple.) and i said, where are you going? home, he replied. to play video games. i said he was lucky, and i was jealous. i'd rather play video games than go to class. and he said, then come to my house and play video games with me. of course i went to class after that. but now i can say things to him like when am i coming over? or you promised me video games. and other things. he's the youngest. (he is a freshman; i am a junior.) he's got a cheshire cat smile. the feeling i get from it lingers long after he's gone.

# 2: this one's weird, because he liked me first, and i rejected him. he was kind of weird. the bad kind of weird. and something happened overnight, or possibly over the summer, and he's different. i don't know how exactly. he looks the same. he has started dressing differently. but i don't think that's it. (i'm figuring this out. right now.) he's always had this habit of standing around, not saying anything, and watching me. it was weird before. now when he does it, it's... different.

damn. i'm usually better with words than this.

actually, i think i know what it is. he used to have this look on his face whenever i saw him, the look a cat gives you while you're scratching its back or after you've fed it. but i never did any of those things for him. now he just looks bored. not the bad kind of bored, which usually stems from disinterest, but the other kind of bored. the bored you get when you know something (or in this case, someone) so well that no matter what happens, you've got it all figured out. and he probably does. or maybe i've just gotten used to him looking out for me. like when he tells people i'm vegan before they offer me cookies, cake or pizza. or when he sees i'm unhappy at school and buys me candy to cheer me up. it's nice to know someone pays attention to you. but i rejected him for a good reason (i'm sure), and i'm stubborn, so i'll probably keep doing that. even if i do like him now.... anyway, he's the boniest. i'm actually trying really hard to not hug him.

# 3: this guy is super tall and lanky. he reminds me of shaggy from scooby doo, and not just because he's got the hippie vibe doing on. he's a grad student, and i was his first friend at this college. he plays the guitar and sings, and something about his voice is really raw when he sings. it feels like he's letting out more when he sings than when he speaks. i have his number, just never used it. mainly because he (probably) has a girlfriend. how could a guy like this not be taken already? i think he's delightful. i don't see him as much as i did last year, mainly because he's busy being an adult now. i think i just like being his friend, and i'd like things to stay like that. but that doesn't mean i'm not hypnotized by his long strides across campus, or down the stairs, or up the stairs. in fact, i think he'd be a great friend to have around for a long time. not intensely close, but close enough. he's the oldest. (not reallly old, but older.)

i think three is enough. i mean, there's a literal forest of weeds, and for me to go through all of those would be insane. there are a few other flowers, but none of them have bloomed like these have. regardless of whether or not these crushes turn into something bigger than crushes, i'll be listening to of montreal and dancing around happily in my room. it's the possibility of something more that excites me. the actual thought of a relationship scares me into submission. and crushes don't usually make you sad, unless you make the mistake of confessing that you like them and they reject you. or if you tell your friends about them and word spreads around (as it tends to), and they avoid you forever.

if i end up singing eros' entropic tundra or something equally unhappy, then one of the above happened. or i lied, and i did want these crushes to be something more. fortunately, these are just the top three out of i-don't-know-how-many-people-i-actually-like. and that's just from school. can you imagine how long this post would be if i counted all the other people i know?

i could cover a wall in my room with the names of all the crushes i've got right now. or at least half a wall.



as if i had all the time in the world.

i love you guys so much that instead of taking notes in my class earlier (about six or seven hours ago), i wrote something in my notebook. it's not as amusing as it was earlier, at least not to me. i'm gonna put it in italics, because i am gonna write more stuff after this. but i wrote it down to share with you, so i'm gonna share it with you. corrections and all. deal with it.

i'm writing this in class. we're talking about eating disorders today. i came in late because i forgot today's was lesson was on e-ds, but i guess my subconscious remembered. when i walked in, the first words i saw were "vomiting", "laxatives", and "fasting". "bulimia". "anorexia".


that being said, i'm not amused by the lack of knowledge (and sensitivity) of my professor. i am amused by level of distress. i can honestly feel my body withdrawing into itself. retracting, even. basically, i hate this class right now. i like my teacher, though. he's stupid, so i've come to accept this as a fact of being in this class. i like him because of it. i admire his stupidity, and ability to still be a professor. man, if i could pull off a scheme like this...

i made a bed-wetting joke. go me. :)

so, is it just me or is life in general really triggering? don't get me wrong. size zero girls wearing revealing clothing? no food for the day. morbidly obese woman being too close for too long? gotta get some extra exercise in. but life in general-- mean people, irritation, bad grades (or good grades)... anything. it's all bad. 

also, i'm behind in my hw. which automatically means caffeine and pills. all night long.

ooh, now we're on pyromania.

i should pay attention to this. fire is good.


so, that was during class time. it looked like i was taking excellent notes, and i got to tell you about my class. win-win. of course, after a class on eating disorders, who else would i miss but banana? so i sent her a couple texts. there was this really great part of our conversation. really. freaking. great. she was telling me she's doing the raw diet thing again. eighty-ten-ten raw, if you don't remember that day. which you shouldn't. (unless you're a creep. then you're a weirdo. what the hell are you doing here? you don't belong here.) also in that post, if you remember the lovely sticks... call me a romantic, but i kind of want to see her again. so i'm working on that. seeing her next semester. regularly. unavoidable. i'm gonna make it happen. i never had a more triggering crush than that girl. well, as far as girls go. whatever. she's still one of the cutest things ever. (you'll find her mentioned here, and then here, and then here. and maybe a lot more in the future, hm? fingers crossed.)

okay, enough stalling. i have three papers to do in the next... eightyish minutes. sounds impossible, right?


get ready to be amazed.


actually, on the off chance that i totally don't finish all three papers tonight, i will be totally honest and say "ha! i'm so full of myself sometimes." but if i do finish it, WHICH ISN'T TOTALLY IMPOSSIBLE, i'm gonna be all like, "why don't i just do these things earlier and not wait until the last eighty minutes before they're due?" okay. enough stalling. i'd better go do my homework.



"good is just the enemy of great and you have to work everyday to get closer to being great."

hazel-rah said that to me last night, while he was at the gym. i like it. it was preceded by "unfortunately, no matter how good you are, something is off." i think he slipped inside my brain, pulled out all the odd bits, and arranged them in a way that sounded slightly less insane. i say things like that to myself, but they never sound normal. what's up with that? actually, most things i say don't sound normal, even simple things like, "hello" or "goodbye" or "i wish i was taking organic chemistry". it's a blessing and a curse, i suppose.

speaking of sounding crazy...

i'm in this sign language class, and we have this group presentation to do. groups of two, which is better than groups of three, which is way better than groups of four. and so on. anyway, we (my partner and i) decided to present if you're happy and you know it. but we're replacing happy with different emotions. so we were sitting together, using our combined brain power, and we wrote down happy, sad, angry, tired. and then she was like, what other emotions are there? and i said hungry. and she was like, hungry's not really an emotion, is it? and i gave some pseudo-logical explanation that she reluctantly accepted. (for the record, i don't think hunger is an emotion.) then we were doing "if you're ____ and you know it, you can _____". (you already know where this is going.) so we started writing them down. if you're happy and you know it, you can smile. if you're sad and you know it, you can cry. if you're angry and you know it, stomp your feet. if you're tired and you know it, go to sleep. easy. and then i was like, what do you do if you're hungry?

in my mind, it seemed like a valid question. not to her. she just kind of laughed and said, eat. but she said it in that semi-questioning way people say things when the answer should be totally obvious. so i just kind of laughed and said, rigghhtt.

also today, i patted my friend on the shoulder, and instantly enamored with the boniness of his body, continued to pat his shoulder at random moments throughout our class. he, luckily, thought nothing of it.

i'm currently semi-obsessed with one tree hill. yes, i watched gossip girl over the summer. so sue me. i think i'm regressing-- i may have said this before, which only solidifies the thought in my mind-- back into childhood. kind of. i'm moving backwards, anyway. mentally. in a way.

i ran into a group of my old friends the other day, and i was instantly offended by how their lives seem to have leapfrogged forward, while mine seems to be hobbling like an old man with two broken legs. never mind the fact that they're all older than me, and speaking from a chronological viewpoint, they're not really speeding through life. (if life is a highway.) i was pretty angry. irritated. displeased.

do you ever feel like life is playing duck duck goose with you and a bunch of other people, and they're all ducks, and you're the goose and life is chasing you around the circle with a sledgehammer screeching, "i'm gonna get ya!!" ?

'cause i felt like that.

who wants to be a goose, anyway? they just  leave poop in parks and create noise pollution at odd hours of the day. and toy makers don't make rubber geese. they make rubber ducks. obviously, if something is worth turning into a toy, it's better than something else. and what kind of game is duck duck goose anyway? why would children willingly choose to label their peers in such a harsh way?

that being said, i just looked up duck duck goose on google, and i found duck, duck, goose: the ultimate guide to cooking waterfowl, both farmed and wild. so i guess it doesn't matter which you are, you'll end up in hot water anyway.


i don't even know what this post was supposed to be about anymore.



the minimalist.

i was on the bus this morning, reading one of the books on my list (life-size by jennifer shute), when my mind started racing wildly (as usual). my train of thought went something like this:

home is where the heart is. (don't ask me where this initial thought came from). so my home must be my body, then. if i'm a minimalist, my home shouldn't be cluttered or full of unnecessary things. therefore, it should be as small as possible. (and then i somehow jumped to) storing fat must be like hoarding. and hoarding is not okay. people who hoard end up on those weird tv shows, where other people can laugh/stare/snarl at the massive amounts of crap they've managed to hold on to for years. and storing massive amounts of fat is just as gross as storing massive amounts of rat poop, or baby squirrel skeletons, or whatever it is people are into these days. (and of course, i found myself thinking) it's definitely a lot worse to hoard fat than to hoard rat poop, because at least no one would know you were storing rat poop unless they came to your house and saw your disgusting, but impressive collection. fat is like, there. constantly on display.


wait. book lists. that reminds me. monkey mind is next on my list. the memoir, about anxiety. i'm excited.

anyway, now i'm sitting in school (supposedly doing homework). yoshi, my old buddy, is sitting near me. i can't help but admire his boniness. as he previously told me, he only eats one meal a day. wouldn't you know it-- he ate it just now, in front of me. eating in front of people is kind of a big deal, right? you don't just eat with anyone. you eat with people who've earned the right to watch you consume food. (am i right? or am i totally deluded? i don't know.) actually, while my sister was here --incidentally, she appears to have gained fifty pounds since i last saw her. no hyperbole here; she really did gain weight-- she ate in front of me. and ate, and ate, and ate. i kind of wish some people wouldn't eat around me. but it's different with yoshi since he doesn't normally eat in front of people.

i'm losing my train of thought. where's my brain today....

yeah, so i'm admiring his sleekness while he does his homework. and while i pretend to do mine. it's easy to not get caught staring at someone when they're focused on something else. i like his hands especially. see, he's holding his phone, and every time he moves a finger, you can see his bones shifting through the skin on the back of his hand. beautiful. absolutely beautiful.

speaking of beautiful, i was on the stairs in school the other day, and this guy popped up in front of me and we made eye contact. i didn't expect it. his eyes were, for lack of a better word, orgasmic. seriously. i looked into his eyes, gasped, and said, "oh my god... your eyes are beautiful." and then i stared into them long enough for him to feel uncomfortable and slink away. but i'll see him again. (muahahaha! we go to the same college. it's inevitable.)

by the way, yoshi gave me a wristband a little while ago, and he told me it glows in the dark. so obviously, i put it on. i was totally pleased with how well it doesn't fit. seriously. i can fit my entire other hand through the space between my wrist and this thing. i like it.

you know what else i like?

that i gotta pee right now.

but it was fun, updating like this. let's do this again sometime.



it's not as bad as it seems.

two months of good behavior.

no late night parties. no drugs. no drinking. no smoking. no leaving home and staying at someone else's house for days.

instead, lots of studying. homework. coming home on time. keeping the house clean.

hell, i even took my piercings out. (don't ask me how i feel about this.)

didn't change much.

first of all, my crazed attempt at getting straight A's this semester was actually disturbingly impressive. worked in all of my classes except one. of course, it's that one class that drives me up the wall. second, being the good girl at home doesn't change a thing. my half sister (dad's side) is coming here in a little while, and my mother doesn't want her to stay here. and she came to see me, so we're just gonna leave and stay somewhere else. i already know that when i come back, i'm gonna get tons of shit for it, but i don't really care anymore.

on top of that, banana took the semester off.... halfway through the semester. her life got a little too crazy. i know i get mad at her and i'll say she's a total bitch, but i honestly do care about her. we still talk, but she's not here anymore. she knows how messed up i am, and i know how messed up she is. we used to look out for each other. so with her gone, all of my issues have been unleashed. like tuesday. i was pretty irritated because of that class i mentioned before. so i got up and walked out of the room. we have exactly four students in that class, so this wasn't a casual exit. took my wallet with me. to the bathroom. normally, banana would have been around, so i'd be a little more hesitant about whatever i was planning to do, but not anymore. anyway, i cut in the bathroom, came back to class like everything was cool. i probably wouldn't have done that if she was still around, because she would have run through our little checklist. (oh well.)

can't visit her right now, because her house is basically three hours away from mine by car, and i failed my road test. no license yet.

insanity definitely helps a lot when it comes to dealing with stuff. and isolation.

and teddy bears. i got a new teddy bear. i call him bones. he's adorable. he's got a little bow and everything.

you know what else helps? winter. i can't wait for mind-numbing cold weather. and snow. we had a decent amount of snow fall on tuesday. it was awesome. didn't stick though.

anyway, i'm okay despite all of that. (haha, which isn't saying much.) i have to finish cleaning up before i leave. i have to figure out what i'm going to eat with my sister, and i have to hide a lot of my stuff before she gets here. (like the pills under my bed and the razors i've got laying around.) and i have packages arriving today, but i probably won't be here when they do.... which sucks so hard. my mother's probably gonna flip her shit. (what else is new.) add the cherry on top: i'm skipping school today. (so much for being the perfect student.)

i'll try to keep this updated, but it's hard to remember what i have to do these days unless i write it down. and even then, i can't write things down unless i remember them. *sigh* but whatever. i hope you're all doing alright. better than me, even. seriously. i hope your brains are still functioning normally. i'm kind of just riding the wave of madness right now. i'll see where it takes me.

it's all wrong, but it's alright.



if you were to ask me how long i've been running for, i don't even think that i could answer. i just don't know anymore.

as messed up as i am right now, in some ways i'm doing a lot better than i was when i was younger. or at least, up until recently i was. i think i'm regressing. that bothers me a little, but it's also comforting.

i remember being in gym class in high school and wearing long sleeves under my gym shirt because i didn't want anyone to see the cuts on my arm. now i'm wearing hoodies and sweaters in the summer-- which would be normal for me if i wasn't also doing it indoors. the good news is that even though i started again, and have been going a little deeper than i used to, i haven't in about a week. so yay... maybe i can stop again.  but at this rate, probably not. at least it's cutting and not overdosing on nyquil like i used to. it went from, "bad day? drink some nyquil!" to "bad day? wipe off the ol' razor!" objectively, they're both bad.

one of the positives would be the music, i guess. within tempation, rob zombie, boys night out, placebo, evanescence-- all the bands i listened to when i was younger, i'm getting into again. weird al too, but he doesn't really fit in that group. i remember riding my bike around for hours, listening to songs like 'fat' and 'eat it' and 'girls just wanna have lunch' and not eating anything but a pack of gum or something. living off of comic books, math/science textbooks and brain teasers. no bike right now, but the music, gum, textbooks and puzzles are all lined up.

a negative is probably the need for seclusion. even when i spend time with other people, i keep wishing they would go away and leave me in peace. i miss my best friend from then, leo. he was like my big brother. he used to self harm too, but worse than me, and he suffered from depression. he used to stop eating for days sometimes because something happened to him. but it's not like he had an eating disorder, he was just depressed. he's dead now, which sucks major ass, and there's no one that could replace him. our friendship was really nice, because we understood each other and could talk about anything. and it was really balanced. i feel like all of my friendships now are uneven, like my friends don't really care about me. whenever i try to talk to my friends about something, they just go "hm" and start talking about something else. or they pretend to understand, and i can just tell by everything they're saying they didn't hear a word i said. half of them just use me so they won't fail school, and the other half just use me to fill up an empty space that someone else vacated. and then they get rid of me once they've got a better replacement. which is probably why i'd rather just be alone. it's basically the same.

a positive is probably the organization. my room is officially the most organized it's been since i was twelve, and it's nice to be able to find anything i need, even in the dark. keeping everything just so is nice. i don't have to think about too much. even my closet is organized, with all my jackets together, all my hoodies together and stuff.

i don't know why i'm writing all this. i think i'm trying to take my mind off the fact that this fucking wonderful guy, this asshole who wormed his way past every lock i put up around my heart is fucking ruining me. he ran into his ex-girlfriend, and because i'm his best friend, i get to hear all about it. again. like i have for the past two fucking years. i think every guy will always obsessed with his ex-girlfriend, and no matter how they say they're over her, they aren't. i also have the beginnings of a headache, because my other friend hazel-ra came back from a trip. i know he liked or likes me, but while he was away, he found a girl who looked just like me-- which is creepy and disgusting and flattering and infuriating and pathetic-- and he ended up spending a ton of time with her. as soon as he comes back, he says when he got to the airport to return home, he saw a girl, went up to her and told her she was the most beautiful girl he had seen in europe. part of me is like, okay, that's cute. part of me is like, so what about that girl who looked like me? was she not pretty enough? of course, whoever she is, i hate her guts already, but i feel sorry for her, because i feel sorry for myself and she looks a lot like me.

i have the music and seclusion. my room is organized, so i know exactly where to go for what i want right now. but i think three out of four is more than enough and i want don't want  have to can't cut right now. i'm more irritated than sad. i feel like a weak piece of shit for letting people get to me. for letting this dickwad chisel through the concrete i buried my heart in and releasing the whole fucking box of emotions i was so close to killing. for being trapped inside myself. i kind of want to throw up, but i don't think i will with my mother and sister here. (because then i'd have to go get food from downstairs and they'd know i was eating, which would be the straw on this feeble, incompetent, and wimpy camel's back right now.)

my heart is full of memory and desire, and in its last nervousness, there is pity for those i have touched, but only hatred and contempt for myself.
delmore schwartz

i wish i didn't feel like the world was caving in around me. i don't even know how i got stuck in this. every time i feel like i should be mad at other people, i just end up mad at myself. i don't know how long i can last like this.



the lonely room where the self must be honest.

i finally slept, thanks to pancreatic-shock-inducing levels of sugar in my coffee. (what goes up must come down. i'm still waiting for the moon to fall.) it was a kind of sleep i haven't had in a while, the one where you're awake--marvelously and dangerously awake-- and then suddenly you're waking up, looking around confused, wondering how long you've been in that spot, with some silly dream trying to pull you back into unconsciousness. i hated it, but i needed it. much like many other things in my life right now.

i put a list of goals and objectives on my bedroom door at the beginning of the month. if anyone besides my cat had the balls to come in my room, i'd be-- for lack of a better phrase-- in deep shit. i'm thinking about taking them down, putting them somewhere else, and filling that space with a quote from franz kafka. you know, the guy who wrote that story with the bug-man and the weird family. metamorphosis. but here's the quote. i dig it.

from a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back.
that is the point that must be reached.

it feels like something i should chant to myself, or put a melody to and sing in the shower. i love finding quotes that make me hiss, yes, exactly! that's it! so suddenly that my cat jumps and glares at me. i have a small journal exclusively for these quotes. it's not quite full, but it certainly is far from empty. much like many other things in my life right now.

i like it, because i reached the boundary line to that point with my family a while ago. my mother would call it my 'don't-care attitude'. i suppose that's fairly accurate. once i stopped caring about my sister was saying, or what my mother was saying, i placed myself out of their grasp. mostly. my sister doesn't make jokes about being a size zero while i'm the size of a baby elephant anymore. (or at least feel like one.) and my mother doesn't say much to me anymore. she's tried placating me by buying more vegan foodstuff for the fridge.  it doesn't work. i think they realize that i'm five comments away from shutting myself off from them.

i have to figure out where that point is for me. lately it occurs to me, what a strange, long trip it's been. i have a feeling it ends in relatively involuntary solitude, but i don't think i'll mind that as much as i should. it's not like it'll be any worse than where i am right now. wherever that point it, i think i'm getting close to it. i want to cross that line. i don't like the grass on this side of the fence. i don't know if that's good or bad, but i guess we'll see when i get there.



the danger must be growing/ for the rowers keep on rowing/ and they're certainly not showing/ any signs that they are slowing

i have issues that i need to deal with. i don't think i even have them prioritized. it's time to get organized.

issue # 1: i can't sleep.

i've had a total of maybe... seven hours of sleep in the past four days. (not including last night, because i haven't even napped yet.) the good news is that i've been getting more done recently than i have for the entire summer. the bad news is that my muscles are starting to ache. i guess that's what happens when you push your body and it doesn't get a chance to recover. i know the solution to this seems simple enough: i need to sleep. it's staying asleep that's the problem. my brain is overactive. too many things are for supremacy inside my skull.

issue # 2: i miss waterbear. i miss odette.  i miss banana.

with the exception of banana, who finally spoke to me last week, i haven't heard from my other two companions. i don't have many female friends i actually enjoy spending time with. (as opposed to simply being able to spend time with them.) these three are definitely at the top of the list. i'll definitely hang out with banana, but since odette has moved and i don't know how to get to waterbear's home, i'll just have to wait this one out. or hunt them down. but i don't like missing people, because what if they don't miss you? i'm not sure i want to find out the answer to that.

issue # 3: i can't stop cleaning.

doesn't sound like a problem, maybe, but it is. the rest of the household (with the exception of the cat) is becoming lazy, leaving things laying around and piling garbage up, because they know i'll clean it. i don't want to clean up after them, but i don't want to become too irritated. i was babbling on sunday to my mother, words pouring out of my mouth rapidly. too fast for her to understand, i could see that on her face. i took a deep breath then, growled from behind clenched teeth. spoke as slowly as i could. why is it so hard for you guys to clean up after yourselves?! i keep cleaning and the house just gets messier faster! keep it clean! even if they did clean after themselves, i'd still find something to clean. i'm sure of it.

issue # 4: i think i love someone who loves me.

that's supposed to be good, but this someone is absolutely perfect. if i look into his eyes too long, my eye starts twitching. he listens to me complain about stupid things. like when the lack of adhesive on sticky notes causes them to peel off and fall without you noticing. he's such a sweetheart. he makes me a dangerous level of happy. if he was even the slightest bit unattractive, or an asshole from time to time, i'd feel a lot better. but he's neither of those, not even close. he invades my soul. i don't understand why someone like him would like me, which i've told him. many times. even though he doesn't believe in 'leagues', i know under normal circumstances he'd be way out of mine, but we've been friends long enough for it to be semi-irrelevant. it still messes with my mind, though. it makes me want to either get as close to perfect as i can-- which, let's face it, won't end well-- or protect myself by shutting down emotionally.

except for issue # 2 (hahaha, # 2), they're connected. the happier this guy makes me, the more energy i seem to have. the more energy i have, the less i sleep. the less i sleep, the more i clean. the more i clean, the less i want to clean, so i talk to this guy instead. but the more i talk to him, the happier i become. and i've tried other distractions, like crocheting flowers and hats, or reading books, but those have time limits. you start crocheting or reading a book, eventually you finish. our conversations only end when he falls asleep. i'll give him a nickname eventually, so i can stop calling him 'this guy', and you can become emotionally attached to him too.

i don't know what to do about any of these. i'm stumped. i'm sure if my brain could focus long enough, i could figure something out, but it isn't.

*cough* ........... *cough*

.... could use a bit of help here, guys. (please.) feels like my mind and body are going to disconnect soon. last time that happened, i almost ended up in a psych ward. i don't want that to happen. i don't think i could take all of my books with me.



here comes the phone ringing the wrong tone.

i hung out with an old friend of mine the other day. he gave me 'the talk'. i followed him as he walked in endless loops. then he stopped suddenly. "look at the sky. what do you see?" birds. "birds, yes. now look at the flowers. what do you see?" a fly? "pretend it's a bee." a bee. "birds are natural. bees are natural." then he turned to face me, wildly. "and so is sex."

i won't go into the rest of it, it got pretty weird. he thinks of me as his daughter, despite the fact that he's only five years older than me. i don't mind; i've gotten used to it in the last eight years. but right near the end of his long winded monologue, he pointed at a morbidly obese woman waddling down the street. "always remember-- you are who you screw. so be careful, or you could end up like that." my eyes got wide, i freaked out a bit. is that true? "yeah, you know, a picture of dorian gray and all..." i stopped talking. he changed the subject entirely. suggested we go bike riding. so we did. for hours.

he said he was hungry, so we went to get lunch at a place i had never seen before. he went, opened the door then paused inside the frame. another morbidly obese woman was inside, literally taking up an entire table, hands grabbing fistfuls of food. shoving it into her mouth. garbage into a disposal. "it's fine," he assured me, as if i was the one frozen in place and not him. "come on." he offered me gazpacho. i declined. "i've never seen you eat," he stated abruptly. i guess that would be odd, since we've been friends for almost a decade now. yes you have. remember that time.... "that doesn't count. but it's alright." i was going to get a salad, but there were too many options. different types of lettuce, and then different toppings-- too much for my indecision to handle. i just got a pre-packaged fruit bowl and water. he looked, didn't say anything, until i arranged the fork, napkin, fruit and water in front of me to eat. "you're so neat. look, you've even got the plastic wrap placed nicely." i rolled my eyes and ate my fruit as he tore into a piece of bread and guzzled his soup. "the soup's good, but the vegetables suck." i changed the topic. more oscar wilde. we finished and then went off exploring other parts of the city.

we were walking down one of those alley-type streets (the ones people tend to stay away from) when i saw a woman in front of us pulling a suitcase behind her. bmi: 17, tops. clearly defined shoulders, thin legs, hipbones sharp enough to slice steak--  i was impressed. he looked away. "ugh." i already knew what he meant. what? i think she's pretty. "that's because your mind is warped by iggy pop and heroin addicts." pfft. iggy's gorgeous, no matter what you say. besides, i thought you were into that. remember miss violin? he just gave me a blank look. "yes. i do. and no. i'm not." miss violin was a girl that i was friends with in high school. he liked her. back then, i wanted so desperately for him to think i was the best person in the world. his confession made me angry. i made a list, me vs the girl. the only difference between us was that she was incredibly, amazingly thin. i thought he was into that. i worked hard to be thinner than her. i would stand beside her and try to compare our bodies. then i started avoiding her. high school had enough problems without that on top. so he didn't like her because she was thin. hm.

later, we went to a small restaurant, since it was dinner time (for him) and he was yet again, hungry. i can't eat any of this. "i know. none of it is vegan." he tried to order for just himself, but they wouldn't let him.so he ordered something for me, as if i was the one who would eat it. bought a beer for me as an apology. it was crowded in there. i'm fairly certain the legal limit had been passed. there was barely standing room, much less sitting room. you could see everyone eating. the table next to us was so close that i had to keep my arms tight against my sides so i wouldn't elbow the woman devouring her meal. chewing, chewing, chewing. everyone was chewing so loudly. i downed half of the bottle in a few seconds. i thought that would make me less tense. not a chance. he noticed my growing irritation, swallowed his food and the one he ordered for me (whole, it seemed), drank half of the remaining half of the beer, and paid so we could leave.

he didn't want me staying out too late. we had been wandering for hours and hours. told me i should hop on the train. i smiled. gave him a hug. said i had tons of fun. i did. it wasn't until i got home that i realized i didn't like much of what came out of his mouth the entire day.

maybe some people are better seen and not heard.



my peace is gone.

i knew they shouldn't have left me with the baby yesterday. i've been avoiding it, being alone with the kid for more than thirty minutes. any more than that, and i knew something would go horribly wrong. but his mother is so happy to be here and not where she's from that she's all about getting out of the house. "i don't want to have to carry him around on the subway and bus," she said. "and we're going out, can you watch him?"

i sat for a moment, tight-lipped and silent. she asked if i was okay. i said i was fine, i'd watch the child. inside, i was seething with rage. all the kid's done since he's gotten here is cry, cry, and cry. and all his mother's done is push him on other people. why the hell did she have him in the first place? still, i didn't object. i let them leave. i watched the spoiled brat.

as soon as they left, i blasted bjork. that put him to sleep. (hell if i know why, though.) about one hour before they came back, he suddenly woke up, crying. incessant crying. it was driving a nail into my skull. he sounded like a fucking seagull being anally raped. i did everything i could to shut him up. the typical things babies like. nothing worked. so i put him to sleep again and waited for everyone to come back. i wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing i had failed at taking care of a baby. i knew i failed, though, which is really all that matters.

i decided to make myself scarce and locked myself up in my room. until this morning, when i came downstairs to fill my water bottle. i spotted my mother on the couch. asked her why she was home. she said she wanted to take the mother and child out to enjoy themselves. i grunted, went to fill my water bottle and came back. asked her what my budget was, if i was getting a used car. she gave me a pretty filthy look and said two hundred dollars. "maybe if you'd gotten a job, then you could buy one yourself." like i wasn't trying. i hissed and spat, like any angry cat would. went back to my room. chain-smoked. stared into space.

i need that car, i need that car, i need that car. that's all i could think about. years of declining vacations (and in many cases, just being left behind) and i can't even a this fucking used car. i'm one hundred percent certain if i asked to go on some stupid cruise, her eyes would light up and she'd suddenly find money. whatever. i hardly ever ask for anything. i just want that car, so i can go on a road trip. alone. far away. and get the break i so desperately need from everything. i'm ten days from self-destructing. suddenly, she calls me downstairs to tell me something's wrong with the baby. he looks sick. she's taking him to the emergency room. i faded out a little after i heard that part, so i don't know what's really wrong with him.

so it must be my fault, because the kid was fine before they left him with me yesterday. nobody said this out loud, but i can feel it. it's either my fault because i fucked up while i was watching him, or it's the universe's way of saying i'm getting out of line by asking for things. although if it is the universe, i doubt they would take it out on a child. but who knows? the universe is fucked up too.

so, somehow, i fucked up. today is starting pretty badly.

and the worst of it is that i should care more. and i don't. i'm sorry the kid isn't feeling well, yeah. i'm not heartless. but i can't stop thinking about that fucking car. i need it. maybe it's because i don't think anything's really wrong with him, deep down. and if it is my fault, it's also his mother's fault for not taking care of her fucking baby. don't carry the thing around for nine months and then dump it on some emotionally retarded young adult the first chance you get. that's just bad parenting.

so there you have it. i'm a self-centered piece of shit, who cares about a used car more than a child. i won't be offended if you tear me a new one. i deserve it.



hidden cracks that don't show/ but that constantly just grow

i've never felt like i was really a part of this family, without my dad around. if there was an award for greatest dad in the world, he'd definitely lose. he kept me on a pretty short leash. but he was a good guy. even if i hated him for my lack of freedom, once i realized there was such a thing out there, he did really care about me. which is more than i can say about the other people in this family.

when i was three, i started feeling like i didn't quite fit into our family. half-brothers, half-sisters, and me. my mother's family, my father's family, and me. see, they're not my family. they're separate groups that were formed before i was born, and didn't have room for me. it was probably because i didn't feel like my mother and i got along. in spite of that, i tried to play the role of the good daughter. after all, i was the only child they both had together. but i still didn't completely feel like i fit in.

when i was six, i got a diary for my birthday. i wrote so many warped things in there. but the first really long entry in it was a complaint about how my mother had told me to carry a grocery bag full of oranges, while my older sister was told to just run up the stairs with bread. the elevator in our apartment building was off that day too. my arms were sore; oranges are really fucking heavy, you know. i told my diary my mother was playing favorites, that she didn't care what happened to me, and that it didn't matter if i complained or not because nothing would change. or so i thought. i told my dad what happened that night, and he listened quietly before telling me that my mother didn't care about me. he said her other children were her first priority (which was and still is true), and that i needed to be very careful about what i said and did to her.

not really the kind of thing you tell your child about your partner. i'm sure the only reason they never got divorced was me. i remember argument after argument as a child. the topics are irrelevant. but each time they began to get a little too serious, a little too loud, a little too angry, i would begin crying uncontrollably. once i even screamed. only once. we lived in an apartment, after all. i stopped doing that after i got the diary, but i started sleeping less and threw myself into my schoolwork. but i digress.

a few weeks ago, while cleaning the house, i began taking down my pictures and hiding them away. i didn't realize what i was doing until i was finished cleaning. it just didn't feel right, deep inside me. pictures of my mother, my half-sister and i side by side. well, technically, it was one picture of me, and my high school diploma. still, i found the other pictures of me and put them away. no one noticed. that just reinforces the thought in my mind, that i'm not really a part of this family. (one of these things is not like the other things.) what started off as a hairline fracture has turned into something worse. something irreparable. it's definitely not the kind of damage that can be fixed. as far as i'm concerned, i've been pushed away and i'll never come back.

so my only half-brother (from my mother) had his first child. and my mother's all like, "i'm a granny, hooray". and i'm all like, "couldn't give a shit." and she's like, "we're going to drive to a whole other state to bring them here and stay with us for a few days." and i'm like, "couldn't give a shit." and she's like, "don't you care about your nephew?" and i'm like, "i have five other half-siblings from my dad, four of which have been having kids since i was child. a new nephew means nothing to me. couldn't give a shit."

so they're leaving today. setting out to pick up my brother, his woman, and his spawn. i had a nightmare about the five of them (my brother, his woman, the baby, my mother, and my sister) sitting around laughing. it's one of few dreams i've ever had that i wasn't in. if i was in it, obviously no one cared that i was there, so it amounts to the same thing. i don't want to sound fucked up, but i don't care about this stupid ankle biter. this baby can go fuck itself for all i care. so can my half-brother, half-sister, and my mother. the woman, i don't know well enough to hate. but they can all take an express hand-basket to hell.

i don't want to share my space with a bunch of people i don't know, who don't know me. you should already know what i plan to do. after i finish this, i'll probably go brush my teeth, wash my face, drink a liter of water, and then put on a happy face. i'll pretend to be happy the entire time they're here. i'll hover on the edges of their consciousness, little more than a ghost. but still there enough to not be accused of insensitivity. i'll watch them interact. i'll watch them move the way people do when they care about each other, so the synthetic sympathy i receive on a regular basis is easier to recognize. and every time someone smiles, i'll feel more out of place.

the chances of this child and i ever spending time together after this are slim to none. just like all the other children my other siblings have had. so forgive me for not being overjoyed that it exists. that won't change anything for me. except my level of self-loathing, maybe. any conversations with me will be obligatory on their part. after all, i do still live here. but it's not like anybody cares, so... i'll play along. being mean is just a waste of time.

i can't wait for this to be over. i hope i can last.



i've seen it all.

i'm not always sure if people i meet are real. i'm used to elves slipping into my room at night and shuffling around. they're real, to me. i can see them. we talk, we argue. we joke about things. it doesn't even have to be night. i learned, when i was much younger, that there are somethings i can hear and see that other people can't. my dad thought it was cute when i was a child. looking out the backseat window, seeing a pale woman dressed in all white standing on the sidewalk. staring right at us. me, yelling, "a ghost! look!" and having the others laugh that it must be a ghost, because they couldn't see anyone. it wasn't cute anymore when i was older, hearing my name called countless times and finally responding, angrily. having my family tell me to shut up, no one was talking to me, i was losing my mind.

i generally know when people are real  but i can't always be sure. yes, i am utterly insane.

that being said, i met a real person last night. i thought she wasn't real for a while. my reasoning was that she was just too pretty. beautiful to a point of it literally being unbelievable. i was on the swings, and then she breezed down the street, into the park, and onto the swing next to me. and then we were swinging together. it was all very lovely. and then, even though led zepplin was blasting in my headphones, i heard her softly say, "excuse me." to me. with something dangling from her open hand. it was all pretty odd.

long story short, a total stranger--  a totally beautiful stranger-- gave me her necklace. seriously. right off her neck. her scent was still on it. (yes, her scent. i've got a keen sense of smell.) i told her it wasn't mine, because i thought she was trying to return something to me, but she said, no, it was a present for me. i think i was just so elated that this creature noticed me (in spite of my monstrously round thighs) that i accepted it as if it were completely normal. we talked for a bit. and then she left.

i kept playing with the necklace on my way back home, because maybe it was a total pumpkin carriage. maybe it was going to disappear as soon as i returned to reality. maybe deep down, i was lonely and my mind created this person to cheer me up. but it was still there, in my hand. i put it on, showed my sister. she saw it. so my only conclusion was that yes, during one of my mentally stable moments in life, something completely weird and unbelievable happened.

i don't know why she gave it to me, or if i'd see her again. but it's an odd thing to do, isn't it? to give someone your necklace for no apparent reason. especially one that says me, you, and love. i don't know what to think. i didn't get much sleep over this. i hate when little/big things throw my brain into a frenzy. i'm wearing it, obviously, because it's cute. i mean, i think i have an idea of why someone would do something like that. but it seems pretty unlikely, to me. i'm so confused.

i'm glad i at least know i'm not completely insane yet. my life makes no sense.



can i choose again if i should lose the reason?

every time i listen to fairest of the seasons, i find myself wishing i could just sit down and talk to nico.

i wonder how many times i can reject something before i can't accept it anymore. i wonder if all the not-so-bad people i shy away from will continue to linger on the edges of my existence, or if they'll decide i'm not worth waiting for and leave. i wonder, if i continue telling my best friend that i'm not as good of a person as he thinks i am, if he'll believe it one day. i wonder if i really continue to isolate myself, if i'll be able to remember how to socialize. i wonder if the line between my dreams and reality will continue to fade and if i'll ever be able to tell the two apart.

i wonder how much i have to allow myself before i can honestly say i don't want something.

it's weird that this song makes me think of all that. i'm pretty sure it's about deciding to leave a relationship while it's still good, before it has a chance to turn sour. that's probably what nico would say to all that. she'd say, "what does any of that have to do with my song?"

and i'd say, "nothing, really."



the invisible noose of insinuation.

i've had this odd little conversational habit ever since i was a child. depending on who the other person is, it can be totally fine or completely offensive. basically, if someone says something and i don't think it deserves a response, i'll just sit quietly and wait for them to finish talking. there's always a teacher or two that hates this. my mother especially is offended by it. maybe she shouldn't have told me children are better seen than heard.

my aunt sat me down yesterday. she asked me why i was wearing a hoodie when it was so hot out. i said i was just used to wearing long sleeves, because i spent most of my summers at the library. most libraries are always air conditioned.. i don't know if she believed me or not. probably not. she started telling me about when she was a few years younger than i am right now. she said she used to be really skinny. ninety five pounds, even. she used to cover up because her knees were knobbly. her bones were sharp. i guess she must not have liked it much, because she gained enough weight to cover her bones. she even gained enough weight to cover the weight, overlapping layers and layers of flesh. she asked me if i was uncomfortable with my body. i smiled and said no.

it seemed as if she was trying to ask if i had body image problems. it wasn't until she told me i should take my hoodie off that i realized she actually thinks i'm cutting myself. i wanted to laugh in her face. i wanted to yell, "you're a little late. try eight years ago." i don't know why that bothered me as much as it did. i mean, i do carry a razor around, but that's just a force of habit at this point in time. when my body and brain disconnected in the middle of school last semester and they sent me off to a psych ward-- just to be safe, they said. just in case something's medically wrong-- no one there asked if i was a cutter. not even the woman who went through my wallet for my insurance card. she couldn't have missed my razor. nobody asked.

after all that, my aunt asked if i had a boyfriend yet. i said no; she said nothing for a few minutes. then she said not to worry, everyone has an awkward stage and i'd grow out of it eventually.

i think she's subtly trying to tell me i'm weird. i'm a little disappointed that it took her this long to realize that.



deception's roots run deep.

i didn't sleep last night. at all.

i have no idea what i'm running on right now.

aside from one ten minute nap, i haven't had any rest today.

despite my lack of sleep, i went to my little cousin's recital. i didn't see her play, because i got there a bit late. but i did find out what a great actress i am.

"i'm too tired to eat, really. i feel like i'll be sick if i do." they almost believed that one. the people i was with. but in the end, they gave me a cup of fruits inside another cup and insisted i eat. so i did the only thing i could do. i took the empty cup, transferred some fruits into it, and hid the other cup in my bag. they really thought i ate it. and just to be sure i didn't have to eat anything else, i played the role of the sleep deprived child. yawns, teary eyes, and dull stares at my surroundings. i was really just going to my happy place. deep inside my mind. i had to. i've never liked the sound of other people chewing. i doubt i ever will. it's a bit gross. (chew all you want, but if i can hear your mouth opening and closing... please stop. please.)

threw out the leftovers of the fake cup of fruit at the place where the recital was. threw out the real cup of fruit when i got home. i had to keep up the tired act when i got home, just in case my aunt called to see how i was doing.

so i lied. i lied all day, the whole time i was with my aunt, so i wouldn't have to eat with her. "i had a huge breakfast." "i already have my dinner ready for tonight; it's at home." "i'm too tired to eat."

for someone who values the truth so much, it turns out i'm an amazing liar when i need/want/have to be.




last month, someone i considered a friend called me a compulsive liar because of something i told her. later, it turned out to be true. still, she wouldn't apologize. that irritated me. but i wouldn't let her see it. i sat quietly, expressionless, emotionless. even as she yelled at me that i was in her house, i couldn't ignore her, i had to say something, i stayed quiet. my reasoning was that she didn't deserve any response from me. so she told me i had to either say something or get out of her house. it was two in the morning. she lives far enough from me (and in a bad enough area) for a trip to be slightly dangerous at that time.

i left.

the trip home was uncomfortable. i was torn between irrepressible anger at her disrespect, a piercing sadness at another person disappointing me, and a sense of elation from not having shown either of those to her. i think i was probably more upset because her view of me was distorted, but not in the way i would have liked. i hate when people think i'm better than i am. i hate when people think i'm worse than i am. but i didn't want to tell her that. i couldn't. it just barely makes sense, even now.

i can say, i did lie to one of my friends the other day. indirectly, but i suppose that still counts. he gave me the fountainhead as a birthday present (mid february), and i only got around to reading it close to the end of the school semester (early may). he asked me if i liked it, and which parts i liked. i said i liked it because of two characters: roark and dominique. he began to ramble about all the finer parts of the book that i must have loved; i agreed with him. truthfully, though, i really only loved them because-- before i continue, just remember something must really be wrong with me. i mean that. something that's supposed to be there isn't. or maybe something that shouldn't be there is. (also, despite my best attempts to organize my jigsaw puzzled thoughts here, i'm not always sure i can do that in a way that makes sense to others. so i apologize in advance.) i really only loved them because they seemed to be so indifferent to food, people, emotions. at least, when i was reading it at first. yeah, the writing was great. the story was great. but those two were extraordinary. my friend said i had a bit of both of them in me, with more of dominique.

nothing else he's ever said to me made me that happy.

i'm pretty sure that reading that book wasn't the best thing in the world, at least for me. i'm sure anyone else could read it and stay totally normal. for a mentally unstable person such as myself, in a land where normal is already anything but, it was definitely not a great choice. i spent the first week devouring that book and drinking nothing but tea constantly. endlessly. headphones in, eyes on the pages. completely shut off from the outside world. when i finished reading it, i spent about two hours staring at my ceiling and thinking of all the effluvia i had to get rid of. all of the things i had previously believed were necessary that obviously people could live without. if a character in a highly realistic (and still fictional) novel can do it, why can't i?

it made me feel terribly dependent. since then, i've been on this never-ending quest to complete independence. some part of me knows that i don't really mean independence, i mean freedom. a degree of it that would probably lead right to my self-destruction. 

take, for example, something as simple as having my license. my mother said she'd buy a used car for me: one, because she knows i'd hate having to ask for the keys to her car; two, because i'd hate to feel guilty about having a new car, and; three, because our schedules and lives don't intersect unless i want them to, so i couldn't borrow her car. if i had my own method of transportation, i'd get a job so i could afford to keep my supplies stocked constantly. i'd stay at school longer, under the pretense of studying, because i won't can't don't eat there. i'd be so intoxicated with solitude, because i wouldn't need anyone to drive me anywhere. i could drive myself anywhere i wanted.

i love ayn rand's definition of freedom. to ask nothing. to expect nothing. to depend on nothing. 

that's my goal right now.



typical me.

i've been dealing with a lot of stuff lately. or maybe i haven't. i don't know.

it seems like some of the people i allow myself to spend time with keep trying to figure me out. so when they get too close, i back off until they're done being curious. the other people i allow myself to spend time with turned out to be the worst of humanity, and threw me into a fear-induced state of sobriety. for the record, if you're ever at a small party and someone gets really drunk and makes a fool out of themselves, be nice. play along. if they blackout, let them forget and live their lives in peace. don't repeat the story and laugh about it. because if that person is anything like me (or in this case, if that person IS me), they'll laugh along and then hate themselves just a little bit more anytime they see you. the end result is either being so low on self-esteem they can't even pretend they believe in it anymore, or a sharp increase in social anxiety that turns that person into a hermit. or if they're really lucky, both.

maybe i'm too nice. there's that stupid saying, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. who the hell wants to catch flies? flies are disgusting. i always think to myself, maybe if i told people what i was really thinking, they'd understand me. but i don't think i'd like that. and neither would they.

none of that really matters.

i'm sure you'd like some good news.

i'm thisclose to getting my license. as soon as i had my permit, my mother took me to an empty parking lot and let me drive around. i may have been a little too experienced for her liking. maybe i was just driving too fast. you want know why i want my license? i want to be able to go to forests and go hiking, and just wander around for hours and hours in nature. without other people. i'm learning to appreciate solitude more and more. and upbeat tunes. and books.

somehow, my book list has once again swelled to demonic proportions. (that's the good news. not the license, the books. only the books matter.)

waterbear is probably spending time with saner people. i can only assume, since we haven't spoken since school ended. banana isn't talking to me, ever since her tongue-twisted fan girl made it clear that she can't have both of us in the same space at the same time. better to have the person around who worships the ground you walk on, right? yoshi is talking to me, but since we're both socially and emotionally retarded, it'll be another month at least until we hang out. if i even leave my house in that space of time. there are other people i could be around, but i'd rather not see them unless i have to.

i made the mistake of doing homework this past semester and getting good grades. therefore, i have successfully raised the expectations of those around me and unfortunately must either meet those (at the risk of the remains of my sanity), or choose to ignore them completely (at the risk of my already endangered self-esteem).

all in all, normal happenings in my life. people come, people go. people think you're an impossibly good person, people think you're a complete fool. i assumed an update of sorts would be proper, since i can't just keep vanishing for months at a time and saying, "hahaha, it's been a while <3". i could, but it's just not right. as far as updates go, my life isn't worth being updated on at the moment. in fact, it's not really worth anything right now. i'm basically in limbo. like that second between when you realize you have to sneeze, and the sneeze itself. it's just empty space. nothing's happening.

it's really quite dull.



i closed my eyes; i held my breath.

my mother's not feeling well today.

i found out earlier this morning when i was creeping downstairs on my way to the treadmill. i made her some tea, and a boiled egg. i messed up with the first egg, because it's been so long since i've made it, i wasn't sure when it would be ready. but she got breakfast in bed today. (i wasn't smiling, but she got it.) somehow, being nice to her drains me of the energy to do other things. i don't know why. regardless, i've been trying to be friendlier with her. we're not close, don't jump to conclusions, but i took some time and really thought about it, and i might as well. my sister's enough of a bitch for her. it's probably just a twenty-four hour bug. at least i hope so.

my mother's mother died giving birth to her, and her father was a deadbeat alcoholic. she only met him twice, as far as i know. so she grew up with her aunt, who had several children to take care of already. i honestly don't think she knows how to be a mother. plus, i'm a first generation american, and she definitely has some deluded notion that if i follow her life plan for me, i'll end up rich. or whatever it is that typical americans end up with/as. anyway, i'm gonna cut her some slack.

although we're not close (i don't think i can talk to her about anything) and she basically turns a blind eye to anything as long as i do well in school, she does let me stay here. she buys me things if i ask for them and doesn't force me to see a psychiatrist, no matter how often i seem to lose my mind. and she bought me this ipod. and my new thirty-two ounce water bottle. so i am grateful for that.

i guess what i'm trying to say is, i don't completely dislike her. once or twice a year, she's actually pretty tolerable. i was thinking before that when i got a job over the summer, i'd finally be able to buy all the supplies i needed (for whatever it is i do in my free time). now that i think about it, i might try to help pay for things, like toilet paper and groceries, and save the rest of my money to help pay for a bill or two. my sister spends her money on take-out and her friends, and since my dad died, we've technically had less than half of the income we used to. it would really suck if we lost our house. so i'm not really doing it for her. it's more like i'm doing what needs to be done. 

maybe i'm getting mature.



the ants weigh more than the elephants.

normally, i love when life doesn't particularly go as planned. the latest twist in the plot is that i'll be in college for a year more than i planned, which is okay, i suppose. unless i decide i'm tired of the emotional roller-coaster, the surprising (or not surprising?) immaturity, the hordes of inarticulate teachers and the constant fear of having a mental breakdown. then i'll leave. but hopefully i don't. school is the nervous system i need to keep myself from crawling around blindly. the only thing to look forward to each day would be a book i haven't read yet.

speaking of books, i've been spending my spare change on books. i thought that would be a good plan. now i have too many books-- yes, i know, there's technically no such thing, be quiet-- and there's no space in my room for them. i can still see the floor, so i guess that's a lie, though. but it's a good thing i've been buying books. i come very close to feeling too much without something to distract my mind. sometimes it's as if everything is magnified until it's a monster that i can't carry, that i simply have to run alongside until we're both exhausted. sometimes it's as if the only emotion i can carry is sadness, because it doesn't ask anything of me, just for me to sit and converse. currently, it's the former. (lucky me.)

that damn elf. he's getting too comfortable. at night, he runs his fingers over my teddy bears, books and clothes. his silence is far more critical than the only conversation we've had so far. he brought a skeleton once, to sit by the window, and hovered over my bed until moon-set. i wish i had an alarm for my brain. then when these ghosts tried to break in, i'd be forced back into reality and they'd be forced out. i can't ever remember his face when i wake up, although i'm sure i can when i'm asleep. maybe that's because he's just passing through. that's probably why he doesn't have a name. 

only a few people can really tell what mood i'm in, and those are the people i don't spend much time with. or technically, i see them often but only spend time with them occasionally. one of them, who i suppose i'll just call yoshi, seems to be the best at it. he's a strange person-- not like me, and yet very much like me-- and we watch out for each other. when i've been too quiet for too long, he'll ask if i'm alright and snap me back in focus. when his parents (his dad, mainly, from what i can see) get mad at him and push him back into himself, i become more animated to cheer him up. but i can't spend too much time with him. i'm fairly certain three of his friends like me. one is the sad little guy from that one party, another keeps trying to get me to hang out at his house under the pretense of video games, and one is just around. all the time. but yoshi is my favorite, out of that group. i like the way he thinks, his amusing talents, and the way he's just himself and not ashamed of it. i'm glad we don't talk often, i'd probably be bored with him. but so far, he's risen to every insane expectation i've built in my head, so maybe not.

i figured i should mention him now, because i see him a lot these days. (he'll inevitably end up in one of my future posts.) if i end up caring more, maybe i can convince him to fix his schedule so we've got similar breaks. but maybe not. the smart thing to do is to protect my emotions. they appear so small and insignificant, you underestimate them. but they're actually quite dangerous. i think i have philophobia. a deep fear of guys named phil. (i'm joking.) but i am afraid of emotional attachment with anything that can hurt me. because people end up caring about other people, hamster wheels don't always spin, fish sleep belly up, dogs are disposed of in shelters, and cats end up being too independent to truly rely on. but i love all of those things at the same time.

maybe that's why i've been listening to fiona apple so much lately. 



a mind is a terrible thing.

i've been having strange dreams again. last night, an elf slipped through my window to curl up behind me.

you've been eating, haven't you, he stated as one arm draped around my waist. i can feel it.

then i sat up and we went over all of my imperfections. it took a while.

everyone can see it, he whispered. everybody knows.

and then familiar faces, attached to familiar bodies, rushed into my room and gathered around my scale. their eyes made my cheeks burn as i stepped onto the scale again and again.

it's going up, they told me. you're making the numbers go up.

someone yelled, this is disgusting! and ran out of my room. someone else started laughing.

stop fucking around, the elf hissed as they began to disperse. you could be amazing. don't you want to be?

so, you know, it was interesting. as far as dreams go, this one wasn't as bad as it could have been.

that aside, it seems i don't have the energy for school lately. i have energy for other things, like reading and video games, but once i'm in school, my eyes start closing and my brain shuts down. i can't function there. i also can't find many people i'm comfortable being around too long. i feel like if i sit in one spot too long, my body will start to spread out and they'll notice, even if they don't say anything. on top of that, my thoughts are spiraling again. it's like my head is full of those super bouncy balls and they're ricocheting around my skull. sometimes it feels like they find an opening and fall out of my mouth.

i think i'm going to get a new ipod (since the other one was obviously sucked into some time-space wormhole and no longer exists in our plane of reality), because it's too quiet and i can hear myself thinking. i'm afraid that if i think too much, i'll do something stupid. of course, if i don't think at all, i'll do something stupid. i feel like a character in an oscar wilde fairy tale, full of good intentions but doomed to a tragic end.

i hope my mind is calmer tonight. i could use a break.



oh life. is that it?

red's concert was awesome. before the concert? not so much. after the concert? not so much. did i mention my mental instability? let's just say when my brain stops functioning, a lot of things don't seem as weird as they should.  it's times like these when i should just stay in my room and pretend there is no outside world. a wise man once said, an unopened door is a happy door.

for example. let's say a girl sees a store and thinks, "hey! i've got some time to kill before [insert activity here], maybe i can pop in for a bit!" so she enters the store, just to kill time, at which point she finds herself trapped in awkward conversation with the store owner. the aforementioned store owner invites her to play on a piano located in the back of the store, adding a line that was probably meant to be reassuring. a line like, "let me just close up." so this girl-- this foolishly innocent and fearless girl-- goes to play on the piano, which (surprise!) is real. and also really in the back room of this store. previously mentioned man (did i not mention it was a man? it was a man.) asks her if she would like to partake in the ceremonial burning of the grass. this girl, who is obviously insane, accepts this offer, while simultaneously realizing she was in the back room of a store, which is now closed. to make a long story short, she finally escapes from the store. but it took her almost thirty minutes to realize where she was and what was going on. and then it takes her another ten to get out. bad? yes. very bad. and it all could have been avoided by her not opening her room door.

that was a strange example, wasn't it? let's try something simpler. let's say this same girl-- just to stick with a familiar character-- is in her room a few days later, reading a book on her bed. let's give her a relative... maybe a sister. so this girl, her sister comes home unexpectedly (after vanishing for quite some time) and opens the door to the house. that's one barrier down but that couldn't have been avoided. unfortunately. let's say this girl's sister sleeps in the room across the hall, and she comes home to find her room has been semi-cleaned and there are folded clothes on her bed. maybe this sister realizes they aren't hers, and says to herself, "these aren't my clothes." so naturally, the next thing for her to do would be to knock on the door of the girl's room. the girl already knows that opening her door leads to hideous and terrible things happening, but for some reason, this foolish girl opens her door. her sister, of course, is holding the clothes that she found on her bed and says, "these must be your clothes, because they can't fit me." so the girl takes the clothes, her good mood now trampled, and throws the clothes on the floor. this plunges her into a terrible mixture of fury, self-hatred, and sadness that leads her to try on each of the clothes just to be sure they don't fit. so the clothes don't fit her, and she thinks for a second, "dumb bitch of a sister." then she realizes, well of course her sister would think they would fit her. she was obviously the size of a baby rhino. once again, she is forced to admit that it could have all been avoided by not opening her door.

i'll get over it. writing it out is therapeutic.

so is listening to bjork's songs. like pneumonia. she's not for everyone. but she most certainly is for me. and right before bed, i'll listen to some jeff buckley, and be glad that i don't have to open my door to enjoy them. that being said, i'll probably keep opening my door, because i know myself well enough. i'll always fight with life and keep telling it to hit me with all it has, and then when it suddenly hits me in a weak spot, i sulk. somewhere between licking my wounds and calculating funeral costs, i get really angry that i lost and i come back for another round. at least, that's what it feels like right now.

just gotta grin and bear it, i guess.



i don't feel good don't bother me.

i really wish my mother would listen to me sometimes. it's pissing me off, a lot. she's been yelling at me a lot because there's really nothing vegan left in the fridge, and she hasn't seen me eating lately. that doesn't mean i haven't been eating. unfortunately. so just to shut her up-- and because i can't stick to my plans if all the food i'm comfortable eating is unavailable-- i asked her if we could go buy groceries. she said she was busy (watching television) but she'd be ready soon (or, you know, in ninety minutes).

i asked her if we could go to walmart, which isn't a huge thing to most people, but i really fucking hate small supermarkets. but no, why should we go all the way there? no, let's go to the small supermarket down the road. gee, thanks mom. i swear, i feel like everyone's always looking in your cart when you're in those places. at least in a bigger store-- at least the size of your standard walmart-- you can zip around, never lingering long enough for people to look in your cart, or at your face, or at your ungodly figure. (unless that god is buddha. but i digress.) and what's more, it's so fucking intimate. i kept running into this woman who kept glancing at the things i was getting and mumbling, "hmm, maybe i need that too..."

that's not even the worst part. i had a very specific list of things i was going to buy. obviously, i didn't factor in going to a store i was unfamiliar with. so i had to take some things off of the list as soon as i walked in, because i just knew they wouldn't have it. and on top of it, every time i was about to pick up something, my mother would either watch me like a hawk, or say she had that in the fridge already. like apples. pink lady apples. i love those. we don't have those in our house. in fact, we didn't have any fruit in our house. except for some moldy strawberries and soft apples. i hate soft apples, they're so offensive. anyway, she kept following me around and adding things to the cart and making comments on what i was getting. i was really close to losing my grip in public.

and it's not even bad enough that she makes me feel bad for not asking for groceries. she has to make me feel guilty for needing her to buy groceries. what the fuck? when i didn't want groceries, that was a problem. now i'm asking for groceries, and suddenly it's like i deserve the death penalty? my favorite part was when she said, "stop walking like that. you look like you're depressed. it's embarrassing." i wonder, mother, what in the world could i be depressed about? hmm... maybe living with you? for starters?

so that was the last straw. or the straw that broke the camel's back. or some bizzare combination of both of those. i tried. she can't say i didn't. i may not have been eating in front of her, but after my grandmother died, i did try eating a little more normally. just a little. i even went to a burger place and got a veggie burger. with a group of people. (no side of fries, of course.) and i even started showing my face at church-- which was a huge mistake, because literally everyone and their mother can't stop talking about weight. why? who knows anymore?

but you know what? fuck it. fuck her, fuck supermarkets, fuck buying groceries, fuck appearing normal, fuck what other people think, fuck it all.

i don't have time for this.