I was so fucking proud of myself, I was doing so good. Now I go and screw everything up, getting into a fight with my Dad. Some asshole calls the cops, and now they have my name (again). So, now if I ever get into another car accident around here (which hopefully will never happen, but you never know), I basically have a signed ticket to Butler Mental Hospital.
Oh yeah, I'm going to get a boyfriend. A beautiful guy who would leave at the first teardrop. Oh yeah, I'll have a family and friends. If any of them could stomach the sight of me like this, unable to sleep. My voice is almost gone. My eyes are bloodshot and red from crying. My clothes are half off (not all the way, thankfully).
I hate it when people call the cops. I think it's wrong and informal. Why can't you go over and ask yourself what's wrong, if you're so fucking nosy? Why don't people ever deal with problems on their own anymore? Because people are total fucking assholes, that's why.
I will never get over what a disaster this night has been. I haven't had any run ins like this in over a year, I thought I was really normal. Now I go and show myself that the monster within is alive and well. Still lurking around the corners, just waiting to come out and make my life worse. I hate myself so fucking bad right now. My Dad even told them I was trying to do an Astronomy project, which made the whole situation eighty times more embarrassing. Does anybody know if Sears sells pink jumpers in juniors sizes?
I just feel so far away from what I really want right now. If Mike saw this, he would surely ignore me, or leave. No one can love someone like me, I don't care what anyone says. I only believe what my ears and eyes tell me, and they have both told me no. I know, I'm being overdramatic. I guess I never got out of that part of being a teenager.
It's just that, being almost 23, being alone for so long feels like forever. I don't want to be around my Dad anymore, because he isn't the person I thought he was. He is too old to care for the house or the dogs, yet he hangs onto them for no real reason. He refuses to go out and date someone, even though I want a Mom so bad.
I just want someone to come home to ("You'd be so nice to come home to" is my favorite Cole Porter song, whenever I'm really sad, I play it on the clarinet and think of the person I want to come home to), someone to eat dinner with (I'm slowly forgetting how to eat in front of others, I eat in front of my computer all the time). I want someone to talk about my day with. Someone to go to the movies with, look at books with, watch TV with. I can watch American TV just fine, I actually like probably more American TV than anime. My favorite show right now is Parks and Recreation, if only because I can really see myself in Leslie, though she is basically a female Michael Scott.
I'm going to try and go to bed soon. I just wanted to write this because there is no one for me to talk to, at least no one who isn't my Dad. He sends me into a flying rage these days, I can't take living in this shitty house much longer. He fucking printed me out a thing of the moon phases, like I'm too retarded to do that myself. I need to know where the moon is in relation to the horizon. God, I fucking hate him so bad right now.
I don't even feel like I'm about to turn 23. I don't even want to turn 23. I don't want anything because I can't have anything I really want. I don't even want to go to the Red Sox game with him on my birthday. I want to go see Blake Schwarzenbach play AS220 on Oct. 2nd instead. I want him to sing some awesome new song, though I would just die to hear him sing something off of Jets to Brazil's Perfecting Loneliness. That album meant the world to me when I was all alone, and it still does. Ugh. I hate everything right now.*Racecar*
<< Friday, Sept. 25, 2009@11:09 p.m.>>