It Hurts Me Too
It Hurts Me Too
2009-07-06 // 10:13 p.m.
I'm sick of this. I was considering starting a blog and sharing my thoughts and ideas and play-by-plays of daily mischief with others, but I should probably get a life first. My fantasies are so much more wonderful and interesting than my real life. The only time drama adds a sparkle to my drab, laughter-deficient summer days is when I'm in control of it, like when I had the option of choosing between two boys. But I've, since May, been outed, and defeated at my own game.
I never thought I'd lose my grip on the reins and get hurt, but I guess that was my punishment for feigning maturity. I've only recently learned I'm not emotionally mature, and if more than one person believes I'm some kind of spoiled brat who thinks she's perfect, perhaps there's a kernel of truth. The only problem with not being a stupid bitch is that every day is such a drag now. I have no job, and my parental income is limited; My college preparation is at a standstill. I'm not even in love anymore, and I'm beginning to think even the elation that I experienced in April was fashioned by my need for a pastime. At least I've started working out again--at very least. My personality is in need of its own fitness regime. Maybe I just miss everyone. I'm 17 and I miss my friends. All these restrictions and the lack of any freedom whatsoever has put me at my breaking point. I'm going insane without sufficient human interaction. I spend my days sulking zombie-like around the house and eating a morsel here and there, and my nights watching Fresh Prince or Roseanne marathons. I could really use a drink, but that might be like adding fuel to this fire, though I'd call it a low burn, at best. No one's in love with me anymore. Haha! I'm such a skank, ugh. Is that really why this dullness set on? Because no one's in love with me? Seems plausible. I'm just so bored. He told me to change, and said he'd believe in me. I'm getting nowhere.