Impressively Long Absence
Pretty sure that was a record even for me. Not that it really matters; no one actually reads my journal. But I can't help but think that the poor thing gets lonely when I don't write in it.
Maybe I could turn it into a diary. Just pour my heart out to the aether every so often, and then maybe I won't have spontaneous panic attacks over my homework next semester. That could be good.
I mean, it's not like I'm never on LJ. I'm here all the time, browsing bad-rpers-suck and customers-suck. It wouldn't exactly be a hassle for me to actually use the journal. And I could always stand to whine a little more, right?
So, there we go. LJ is now my diary. I guess we'll start today, with how I'm kind of a useless lump.
I'm at my grandparents' house right now, and the entire family is together. I've spent most of the time on my laptop, because this many people in one house? Yeah, not my idea of a good time. I can actually talk to my grandparents finally, now that they've realized I'm no longer twelve, but it's all stilted and it works better if I'm only in the room with one person at a time. It's kind of pathetic, really. Even if family or friends are the only other people in the room, I still worry about getting judged.
But maybe I should worry a little more. If I thought I was being judged, I probably could've scraped up more than just Bs and B+'s for my final grades, this past semester. And I was thrilled with that, which makes it even worse. I was psychotically happy, for what my family has come to see as below average, because 'well, you're sister got straight As.' Good for her. She's neurotic. I love her (I live with her) but I'm 90 % convinced that her perfectionism will give her an ulcer by the time she's 32.
So, yeah. I'm sort of a useless lump. Can't talk to people. Can't scrape up any "proper" grades. Can't get a job. Can't finish writing a story to save my life. Keep getting more and more medications heaped on top of me. Can't keep in contact with my friends because I've had so much exposure to people in classes that anymore will make me have a psychotic break. Can't keep my sister happy for more than a couple days at a time. I can take care of a cat. And a fish. That's about it.
And somehow I'm going to have to explain to Mark that it's nothing personal, and I'm not avoiding him because I'm annoyed with him. Bre understands it, at least.
Maybe I could turn it into a diary. Just pour my heart out to the aether every so often, and then maybe I won't have spontaneous panic attacks over my homework next semester. That could be good.
I mean, it's not like I'm never on LJ. I'm here all the time, browsing bad-rpers-suck and customers-suck. It wouldn't exactly be a hassle for me to actually use the journal. And I could always stand to whine a little more, right?
So, there we go. LJ is now my diary. I guess we'll start today, with how I'm kind of a useless lump.
I'm at my grandparents' house right now, and the entire family is together. I've spent most of the time on my laptop, because this many people in one house? Yeah, not my idea of a good time. I can actually talk to my grandparents finally, now that they've realized I'm no longer twelve, but it's all stilted and it works better if I'm only in the room with one person at a time. It's kind of pathetic, really. Even if family or friends are the only other people in the room, I still worry about getting judged.
But maybe I should worry a little more. If I thought I was being judged, I probably could've scraped up more than just Bs and B+'s for my final grades, this past semester. And I was thrilled with that, which makes it even worse. I was psychotically happy, for what my family has come to see as below average, because 'well, you're sister got straight As.' Good for her. She's neurotic. I love her (I live with her) but I'm 90 % convinced that her perfectionism will give her an ulcer by the time she's 32.
So, yeah. I'm sort of a useless lump. Can't talk to people. Can't scrape up any "proper" grades. Can't get a job. Can't finish writing a story to save my life. Keep getting more and more medications heaped on top of me. Can't keep in contact with my friends because I've had so much exposure to people in classes that anymore will make me have a psychotic break. Can't keep my sister happy for more than a couple days at a time. I can take care of a cat. And a fish. That's about it.
And somehow I'm going to have to explain to Mark that it's nothing personal, and I'm not avoiding him because I'm annoyed with him. Bre understands it, at least.