Sooo....Pete is leaving for California tomorrow.
Okay...so, I think I may be moving to Parker with my Bana (grandmother) and Gramps (whoo, betcha can't figure that one out)
Yeah, I know it isn't quite pussying out, sonce I'm not technically going back to my parents house, but still I feel kind of like a loser for giving up. I think the only thing that kept me in Richardson was my pride. That, and there was a Whole Foods right next to my house, and I love that place.
Pete leaves tomorrow, Rachel is moving in sometime this week if she gets the job at Black-Eyed Pea. Then I'm going to talk to her, Terry, Barb and the rest of the people in the house about maybe getting one of Rachel's friends to move in with her, or see what can happen with all of this. Or I could just tell Rach that she'll be making far more at Target than she ever will at the Pea, and she's better off staying where she is....which I hate to do, but part of the back of my mind is saying it's true. Somewhow, with all the people Terry knows, I don't think it would be all too difficult for them to get another roomate or two.
You know, as stupid and childish as this next thought is, this is kind of how I've been functioning for the past couple of months or more.
Screaming, ripping out my hair, ripping out other peoples sensitive parts, stabbing things, comitting large acts of arson, large scale homicide, and kicking a puppy here and there....that's been the inside of my head while I'm doing things like smiling sweetly at the elderly that some in to eat at my work all the while treating me and my co-workers like a dead baby pidgeon they squished underneath their clodhopper-shoes, listening to the daily rant about money, how tight it is, and yet they still spend it like water, istening to my mother's rant about how my life is hurting HER. (well, she always has been rather self centered. That must be where I get it from)
I think it's funny how my mind turns to fantasizing about random acts of destruction at times like those, and when I'm in my room, I just scrunch up into a little ball and zone out for hours staring at the ceiling/clock/pictures on the wall and make myself not think of anything. Not crying, mind you, but there's still that same knotted up feeling in my gut that if I can't get to sleep will end up making me want to throw up.
Heh, that or I zone out to my childhood daydreams of having super powers and going invisible. Can the government tax what they can't see? (Just waiting for that tax on oxygen to come around)
I'm thinking too much again. I think I need another zone-out time. UTD is good for things like that.
Mmm...tedium.
Yeah, I know it isn't quite pussying out, sonce I'm not technically going back to my parents house, but still I feel kind of like a loser for giving up. I think the only thing that kept me in Richardson was my pride. That, and there was a Whole Foods right next to my house, and I love that place.
Pete leaves tomorrow, Rachel is moving in sometime this week if she gets the job at Black-Eyed Pea. Then I'm going to talk to her, Terry, Barb and the rest of the people in the house about maybe getting one of Rachel's friends to move in with her, or see what can happen with all of this. Or I could just tell Rach that she'll be making far more at Target than she ever will at the Pea, and she's better off staying where she is....which I hate to do, but part of the back of my mind is saying it's true. Somewhow, with all the people Terry knows, I don't think it would be all too difficult for them to get another roomate or two.
You know, as stupid and childish as this next thought is, this is kind of how I've been functioning for the past couple of months or more.
Screaming, ripping out my hair, ripping out other peoples sensitive parts, stabbing things, comitting large acts of arson, large scale homicide, and kicking a puppy here and there....that's been the inside of my head while I'm doing things like smiling sweetly at the elderly that some in to eat at my work all the while treating me and my co-workers like a dead baby pidgeon they squished underneath their clodhopper-shoes, listening to the daily rant about money, how tight it is, and yet they still spend it like water, istening to my mother's rant about how my life is hurting HER. (well, she always has been rather self centered. That must be where I get it from)
I think it's funny how my mind turns to fantasizing about random acts of destruction at times like those, and when I'm in my room, I just scrunch up into a little ball and zone out for hours staring at the ceiling/clock/pictures on the wall and make myself not think of anything. Not crying, mind you, but there's still that same knotted up feeling in my gut that if I can't get to sleep will end up making me want to throw up.
Heh, that or I zone out to my childhood daydreams of having super powers and going invisible. Can the government tax what they can't see? (Just waiting for that tax on oxygen to come around)
I'm thinking too much again. I think I need another zone-out time. UTD is good for things like that.
Mmm...tedium.