(no subject)
I know I haven’t updated in a while.
This weekend had its ups and downs. First, I gave blood, a lot of blood. It’s probably something I’ll never do again, and if I do, I’d think a lot longer before I do it. Then, John and I went to Camarillo to get him clothes, so he doesn’t bum around. That went well; I think he looks somewhat presentable in two shirts and one pair of jeans. I got myself a pair of expensive sandals, but I think that if I wear them enough, they will eventually make up for the price. For dinner, we went to Soup Plantation, which I think is the best chain out of traditional American restaurants, well at least in comparison to Sizzler or Denny’s or some other shit. Later, we went to Petco and I got myself a hamster, Fidget, that’s what we called him. Then we rushed home in time for my parents to arrive, but of course we were like 10 minutes late. That’s when the weekend went sour. My parents bitched about everything, starting from the fact that I was 10.5 minutes late in time for their arrival, that I didn’t provide them with a comfortable bed but instead placed them on Ash’s king-sized foldout, that I am fat, that I gave blood and its detrimental to my health, that I got a pet, that I have to spend their $120 on birth control every year, that I have no direction in life and their money is going to waste. In addition to that loveliness, the following morning they dragged me around Goleta shopping for insane amounts of juice in order to make up for my “mistake.”
I can’t really say that life is good to me. I have nightmares about the past almost every night. I can’t come to terms with my failures. I feel like shit all the time. I rub it off on John. I don’t even know why he’s still with me, I don’t feel the love. Or maybe it’s just me, I’m selfish. For Christ’s sake, why can’t I detach myself from feelings?
I miss home, but I don’t want to go there. There’s too much pain and regrets. Sometimes I feel like I want to lose my memory, all of it, wipe the slate clean, and start a new life. I’d place myself where I am, in SB, and start all over. I want to rediscover friends, be in love, try something that makes me happy, because right now I’m so fucking maudlin, I bawl every fucking day for no apparent reason. It not that I’m not busy enough, I just perceive myself as inferior, as someone who doesn’t deserve to be truly loved, someone who can be easily forgotten. Fuck this.
This weekend had its ups and downs. First, I gave blood, a lot of blood. It’s probably something I’ll never do again, and if I do, I’d think a lot longer before I do it. Then, John and I went to Camarillo to get him clothes, so he doesn’t bum around. That went well; I think he looks somewhat presentable in two shirts and one pair of jeans. I got myself a pair of expensive sandals, but I think that if I wear them enough, they will eventually make up for the price. For dinner, we went to Soup Plantation, which I think is the best chain out of traditional American restaurants, well at least in comparison to Sizzler or Denny’s or some other shit. Later, we went to Petco and I got myself a hamster, Fidget, that’s what we called him. Then we rushed home in time for my parents to arrive, but of course we were like 10 minutes late. That’s when the weekend went sour. My parents bitched about everything, starting from the fact that I was 10.5 minutes late in time for their arrival, that I didn’t provide them with a comfortable bed but instead placed them on Ash’s king-sized foldout, that I am fat, that I gave blood and its detrimental to my health, that I got a pet, that I have to spend their $120 on birth control every year, that I have no direction in life and their money is going to waste. In addition to that loveliness, the following morning they dragged me around Goleta shopping for insane amounts of juice in order to make up for my “mistake.”
I can’t really say that life is good to me. I have nightmares about the past almost every night. I can’t come to terms with my failures. I feel like shit all the time. I rub it off on John. I don’t even know why he’s still with me, I don’t feel the love. Or maybe it’s just me, I’m selfish. For Christ’s sake, why can’t I detach myself from feelings?
I miss home, but I don’t want to go there. There’s too much pain and regrets. Sometimes I feel like I want to lose my memory, all of it, wipe the slate clean, and start a new life. I’d place myself where I am, in SB, and start all over. I want to rediscover friends, be in love, try something that makes me happy, because right now I’m so fucking maudlin, I bawl every fucking day for no apparent reason. It not that I’m not busy enough, I just perceive myself as inferior, as someone who doesn’t deserve to be truly loved, someone who can be easily forgotten. Fuck this.