So much for the afterglow

Ok, I admit it. I'm a scared little girl who acts like a punk to try to force back the tears. Maybe. Frankly I don't know anymore. I don't know if I even want to know anymore.

Yesterday I made the decision that I didn't want to know anymore. I don't want to know whether or not there's something behind my being uncomfortable about sex.

I hate life. I hate making decisions. I refuse to make that decision. How can I be expected to?




THERE ARE NO FACTS. That's what I hate so freaking much. That there's no such thing as a fact. We pretend that we know what's going on. But we don't. We never have, we never will, life is futile, right?

I forgot meds last night. Only I don't feel sick, so maybe I just forgot that I took them. I don't even know. All I know is that I was tired last night and slept in nat's bed hugging the wall. Nat really doesn't share her bed well. Her own fault. She made me watch the movie with her, I was tired, I wasn't gonna stay awake.



On the brighter side, in Vegas I'm gonna see the Blue Man Group. If Nat's friend lets me, I'll also be seeing.... *trumpets* WAYNE NEWTON cause he's freaking awesome. My hero. I did a presentation on him and sang Danke Schoen for my debate class. Got lots of laughs. Good times. Dinner time.

Ow!

*mutters* I have hard bones. It's stupid. So now my foot hurts cause I sat on it wrong.
I find myself curious, I suppose... wondering who is actually reading this. So... if you are, please just make a little note indicating who you are. Thanks.

Pondering

So.... why is it that I blog? Why is it that I sit here night after night waiting? What am I waiting for? Some magical answer? Cause there is none. There's no freaking answer, life is comprised of incidents leading to death or the prevention of death. Think about it. Anything can be categorized in that way. Nothing is in the middle. No freaking gray area. I hate gray. Everything should be black or white, but no decisions in life are really like that, are they? You could help someone or you could read scriptures. Both are good, one is better. I think helping someone is better. Cause guess what... you have a limited chance to help people.

I went to see 46 etchings of Rembrandt today. It was..... breathtaking. He's always been one of my favorites. I even saw a collection of Durer.... who is like my hero. They're right.... staring into Rembrandt's work... when he wanted to, he could make someone stare into the depths of your soul. There's one.... something like Removal from the Cross Second Plate that Rembrandt is just off center. He's on a ladder, helping three others with the lifeless body of Christ. He is firmly holding up Christ by one arm. But it's gentle. He is looking out... looking to you. Looks a lot like Beethoven, funny enough. But.... astounding. One of my problems with the Bible has been Abraham. I mean.... the whole Middle East conflict.... has it's roots in Abraham's decision to cast out his own son. But..... I almost accept it now. Like..... looking at his etching.... this one, Abraham has one hand beckoning towards the house, the other at his son and what's her face, and you can see the division... you can see how hard it was.... this wasn't just.... I..... it showed me that it was hard. Heh, best part of it is that Sarah is leaning out a smile in a toothless grin. No longer is it so much Abraham's sin.... but Sarah's....


I hate this..... I mean.... BRAH!



I need to cut my hair.



Sometimes I think I'm alone... completely alone. That all I am is this.... all that exists is right here with me.... not that everyone has died, simply that they don't exist. And then the whole.... reality crap sets in.

BORED

Holy crap, I am so incredibly bored. Oh, and.... Sunny and Erin, remind me to tell you about mid... I'll know what you're talking about.

IDIOT

Yeah..... I hate myself so much. Why can't I just freaking let things go? Huh? No. I'm sitting here, have been waiting 3 days now, checking every time I got online to see if she'd entered something new.

I'm smart, huh? Oh yes. Yes.

I've decided that I'm too smart for my own good

But Mrs. H disagreed with that. We write these little journals now and then to try to get the juices flowing (creative writing). I noticed lately that all I've written is just depressing. Unless I was actually doing an assigned topic.

I have no motivation.

And it does NOT help that that freaking Annie song Tomorrow is stuck in my freaking head cause of freaking math and freaking freaking freaking.... heh. I hate that song so much. I hate that girl so much. I hate it all. So stupid. "Tomorrow's just a day away" WELL YEAH YOU IDIOT! Can you think of a more meaningless line? I mean, it's just a definition. A bad one at that, since right now, tomorrow is one hour and 17 minutes away, but if you wait for one more minute, it will be one hour and 16 minutes away, which is NOT a day away, since a day indicates 24 hours. Tomorrow starts before then. It's not a day away, it's a little over an hour away you psycho kid.

I realized something today. I get online..... and I wait. And nothing happens. I'm still bored when I get off. Basically, I'm just sitting here staring at a screen waiting for something to happen, but it never does. And ya know.... getting tired of it.... but I have absolutely nothing better to do. And I get like.... what, one email every other day from someone I actually care about talking to.... what's the frickin point of even getting online anymore?

Just generally in a bad mood. I'm sick of this meaningless life, I want it to end already.

And ya know.... it really should have been me. Not Marilyn. Me.

Idiot

Yes, I am what you may call... an idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. I'm disappointed in myself. Why'd I do that?

I *heart* Borders

He he he.... so Park City is like a 45 minute drive away, and they have the discount stores up there, so we went for Rue 21 and of course.... Borders. That's called... like 20 dollar books for 4 bucks...

Specifically.....
3.99 for King's On Writing which is normally 25.
2.99 for Life: The Odds (And How to Improve Them) which is normally 20.

Yesssssssssss.... plus, been wanting On Writing for a freaking long time, and Life: the Odds is already freaking hilarious.


But..... to make this about more than just me being happy about cheap books..... I woke up at 6:14 am just cause my body does that *shakes fist at body*. At 6:15 the power went out. So I was like.... well.... can't go back to sleep.... cause my alarm won't be going off.... but I don't want to get out of bed.... and there's nothing interesting to do without electricity..... so I had breakfast. I know... SHOCKER! I actually had breakfast. I was proud. Then kinda just wandered about the house till 7:19 as I'm walking out the door.... and.... low and behold, 7:20 the power flicks back on. I'm telling ya, the Universe hates me. Heh. That's what I tell all my debate friends when things are going badly for them. My luck rubbed off on you. Then the Universe hates them. Then I laugh. Then they laugh. Then they use the phrase, and thus.... my words catch on quickly. Anywho... gotta stop before I start ramgling.

Fashion Sense?

Jennifer, a policy girl that graduated last year, was completely addicted to Vogue. I don't understand.

To put it simply: me and good ol' Abercrombie and Fitch don't get along.

In fact, there are stores which I refuse to waste my time in because it's ridiculous. In Anchor Blue today, I stood aloof, fingering objects (because I am addicted to touching fabrics to see if I can find soft ones) and nearly panicked when my sister had roamed elsewhere. I would have been horrified if one of my friends had walked in. The moment Natalie had picked out her tank tops and paid, I hurried out. Rue 21 has always been a great place for me for jeans. And some funny shirts. Problem: I hate designers.

Why do all designers in 'teen' stores think we want sexual induendos and racist or sexist sayings on our shirts? I don't think I need a shirt that says "YES...they're real." or "BLONDES DO IT BETTER" or "I LOVE LATINOS."

What happened to.... trying to make the whole.... prejudice thing fade out from society?

Furthermore, I do not understand the need to have that 'broken in' feeling. I can break in my own jeans, thank-you-very-much. This is what astounds me: pre-made holes and yes.... oh, yes..... even paint splatters. If I want paint splattered all over my jeans, I'll just wear them while I paint. Maybe it's just my upbringing... the whole "Change into something you don't like before you paint" drilled into me, but paint doesn't really make a pair of jeans more appealing. Guess what? I have never seen a girl at my school wearing paint splattered jeans unless they had just painted their room and that was the cleanest pair of jeans. Which is why it was on the 30% off rack.

Have you ever noticed (especially at stores like Wal-Mart and K-Mart) that all the plus sizes are BRIGHT? Find that at all odd? Why buy merchandise that you know will end up on the clearance racks?

I love Hot Topic. You wanna know why? Few pastels, few sexual inuendos, few idiots in there discussing some idiotic 'teenage' topic, no oldies music, no 'Hey look, we're fashionable' crap. I don't want to stand out. I simply don't want to wear some pink, frilly, low necked shirt that makes me an object. Honestly, I wouldn't wear as much black if it weren't for stores today. I have to go to the opposite extreme to get away from the crap that I hate.

So.... no, to the average person, I have no fashion sense. I don't coordinate my shoes with my clothes. The biggest rule I have is no wearing white socks with black pants. Brown with black? Fine, no biggy, they're both somewhat alike, no worries. My mom can't wear black socks with her brown pants. I find it kinda funny.

Disturbed Individual

Turner's Syndrome: an abnormal genetic condition in which a female possesses one X chromosome instead of the usual XX pair. Girls with the syndrome fail to develop sexually at puberty.

It shoulda been me.


It's funny. Far too often, I find myself saying that... and it tends to be something that a normal individual would shudder at the thought. Like when Marilyn had cancer. It should have been me.

The greatest gift you could give someone is the ability to live when they want to live. I would have gladly given up life for the sake of Marilyn. But that's not how life works. And that's what hurts the most. It should have been me, but it wasn't. I see her family. Her husband remarried a few months ago. Or more. She's been gone... since I was in ninth grade. No. Was it tenth? I don't keep track of anniversaries of anything except happy occasions. Leaves less in life to mourn for. I see Michael. He's 12. Seems like he's still a really little kid. He needed his mom. Not Becky. His mom. I could have gone for her sake. But... that's just not the way that life works. That's what I find most frustrating about it all. It should have been me.

Turner's syndrome. I want to research it more, but I know I shouldn't. I already have enough screwed up plans in my head waiting. Waiting for what? They're all proven wrong. But I remain hopeful that... I don't know.

It's perfect, though. Female... so it would still be me... but without the added crap. Without it all. Pure. Purity. "become as a child"... they never mature physically. If only.

If only what? I could somehow just split off the other x? Ludicrous. It's completely ludicrous. And yet... that hope. Last time in therapy, it was all just plans for college and stuff... in a way, I'm happy we didn't talk about it. In another way... I just want to know. Know why I'm so screwed up. And I don't get it. I don't freaking get it. In my mind, I'm thinking something is utterly disgusting, yet.... as much as I want to deny it... my body reacts. And I hate that. I hate that I can't control it. I despise that more than anything, that's why I have to get rid of it. I can't control it. I hate it when they say that teenagers have raging hormones. "Not me." But what if I do? What then? What the crap am I then? No. I don't. I don't want that. I don't want that. Yeah... intrigued by kissing. I admit that. No more, though.

"The human body is disgusting."
"No it's not. God created it."
"Well, I think it's disgusting unless it has clothes on."

Natalie told me that Kristina once tried to talk to her. About it. *shudder* about how 'beautiful' it is. Pardon my cynicism, but I would hardly call it beautiful. It's about carnal, beastly desires that should be refrained. It's only a means to an end... populate the world. But I don't want to populate the world, it's crowded enough as it is. These idiots in India think that they'll be respected if they have more kids, so they keep popping 'em out just to have them starve to death. How sacred is that? "Multiply and replenish the earth" well, I suppose they're doing that then, then am I the sinner? What, just cause I don't think it's right, just cause I don't want to be some perverted obsessed dolt just like the rest of the world makes me a sinner?

"I'm not getting married until I'm at LEAST 25."

And she got mad at me. And Eric.... *shudder* he keeps trying to set me up with these idiot guys in the ward. They're all perverts. I know they are, I don't need to waste my time on them. Not all guys are perverts. There are those who are not. But most are, that's the thing. Most of them are just these sex driven dolts who only listen to their penis. That's what I hate. That's what I'm trying to run away from. I don't want to be another victim.

Yeah. I don't want to be another victim, that's why I have to get rid of it. That's why. That's why I have to figure something out. That's why I don't want to get married. That's why I don't want to be here. That's why I have these screwed up thoughts.

I don't want to be another victim. Is that so hard to understand? I don't want that taken away from me. I don't want something inside of me. I don't want it. So get it away. Figure out some way... some way I'm asexual. Something. That's all I want.

So.... you wanna know what I figured out one night while curled up in a ball wigging out cause of something I saw on a movie? That maybe.... if I just.... cut around the ridge... I could stitch it up.... and a scab would form, and then that wouldn't be there anymore.

Didn't happen. After part of my wits had been gathered again, I realized I would still have the ovaries.... and the menstrual cycle, and it wouldn't work. So I dropped it. In light of a new plan. Get the ovaries removed, then I would be able to stitch myself up. Thing is, doctors won't remove them unless there's something really wrong with them. Plus, even if I did convince a doctor to, I would then have a chemical imbalance and have to add more pills to correct that. So that didn't happen. And I can't believe I just talked about that.



My therapist knows. I gave her an email I wrote to Kristy (friend, not talking about my sister) that talked about it.

Dogville was the film that set me off. It was a rape. I retained a pretense of being calm, and left my mom to watch the rest. She later told me that the rest of the men in the village rape the girl. Thanks, mom. Really needed to hear that. I left for a reason. Never watch it.

It was then that I really figured out something, though. The reason why I need it gone... is because it makes me vulnerable. It was then when I realized for the first time that... reality is, any man wants that, and I won't be able to stop him. I don't have the physical strength. I feel so weak knowing that. Sure... I could do some major damage to him.... but in the end... I can't stop him.




That.... is more than enough..... and I'm out.

Fascination

I have found someone. Someone... a lot like me. He's 18. I found his journal.
His name is Andrew.
Paul's middle name is Andrew. That was my first guess when he told me his middle name starts with an A. I rock. Anyways, back to what I was saying.

Selection from his journal:
"i just need something good in my life at this point.
be it a girl, an experience, something. i am so complacent right now that it might start hurting soon.
gah, i don't know. i'm... off lately.
not happy, not sad. not... not.
i need something i can touch. something that can keep me moving, make me feel. something maleable.
and a job. which will just suck the life out of me very slowly.
i just need feelings. a change.
i have plently of ideas but nowhere to go with them. deltona is a black hole for ideas. it just sucks them up and gives you back a big plate of nothing.
traveling somewhere sounds good. somewhere new. or just a change of scenery.
my tiny room is equal to my tiny life. i haven't done much.
i'm too safe.
if you were given a billion dollars, what would you do?
i'd do nothing. at all. i would buy a small apartment, a nice sound system, a good tv, and i would do nothing. thats it. i would sit. thats the frame of mind i am in. i have done nothing with my life as of yet, so i see myself doing nothing if given the chance to do anything.
wow... that came out a bit philosophical.
i've never really want to do anything. not drive, not go to school, nothing. the only thing I like to do is write, and watch good movies. downside is, i haven't really written a dedicated piece in a very long time because i've been so complacent. in order to write you need emotion. one would think the lack of emotion would be enough, but its not. its almost as if i'm not breathing air, but boredom... i don't even know what i am saying anymore. i just. don't know.
i've got legs, but if i try to walk i get scolded for doing so, and then I get yelled at because I'm not a perfect clone of what my parents want me to be. but, at the same time, i know that if i were to leave the confines of my house, i would crumble. i would need to latch onto something else to take care of me. i've been coddled and at the same time pushed away all of my life to the point that i am eternally stuck in the middle of the road with no true path.
i... should go."


He fascinates me... cause that sounds a lot like me. That's my real problem. Simple boredom. Yeah, depression and GAD handle in, but the majority is boredom. It's that simple. Being frustrated in going nowhere. Doing the same thing everyday, I just want some change, some purpose. I want a job. But I refuse to do something stupid. One of the happiest summers of my life was working at Holiday Inn Reservations. It was great.... no, I didn't really do much, but I was doing something. Helping people make vacations. Not anything big, but... still, it was something. That's all I need. Something. James told me to get a job. I miss James, but I know I can't go back just cause I miss him.

I hope that someone sees me like I see James. It's like... this profound feeling that you can trust someone.... even when you don't know them yet. I've written that about Coach Flint too. Just.... someone that I could open up to, cause I knew he wanted what was best for me. While he led me down one path I disliked to a great extent... I place no blame on him, and I'm not angry about it cause it was done in good faith.

Tiny Vessels - Death Cab for Cutie

this is the moment that you know
that you told you loved her but you don't.
you touch her skin and then you think
that she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
i spent two weeks in Silverlake
the California sun cascading down my face
there was a girl with light brown streaks
and she was beautiful but she didn't mean a thing to me.
yeah she was beautiful but she didn't mean a thing to me.
wanted to believe in all the words that i was speaking
as we moved together in the dark
and all the friends that i was telling
and all the playful misspellings
and every bite i gave you left a mark
tiny vessels oozed into your neck
and formed the bruises
that you said you didn't want to fade
but they did and so did i that day
all i see are dark grey clouds
in the distance moving closer with every hour
so when you ask was something wrong?
that i think you're damn right there is but we can't talk about it now.
no, we can't talk about it now.
so one last touch and then you'll go
and we'll pretend that it meant something so much more
but it was vile, and it was cheap
and you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me
yeah you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me (x2)



So beautiful.

Twisted

According to some, I am a psycho. According to others, a genious. I figure I'm somewhere inbetween.

A new blog for a new life. One without those who would attempt to ruin me. One of little to no guilt. One of less bloodshed.

Cut the corners off the edge. Waste not, want not.

Just a way to get the thoughts out that overflow my mind. Ever wanted to just stop thinking for a while? Dreamless nights are gone. Therapy has begun.

If anyone would like to explain the enigma which is me, feel free to try. I'm too wrapped up in my jigsaw puzzle.