Bless me journal, for I have sinned.
Age: 22
It's been ten days since my last confession.
Sex: Female
So difficult to resist the “yes, please” response. Do you know it’s been almost five months? I mean, fuck. Yes. Please.
Physical attributes: Skinny, like Olive Oil.
It’s weird. I actually have reached a place where I’m pretty satisfied with myself. My whole life I felt like crap about my body because it’s what I thought you were supposed to do. My complaints were imitations - of my mother, my friends, people in TV and magazines. This is what we teach little girls. If you want to fit it, you have to hate yourself. It wasn’t until…the park I guess, that I realized how utterly ridiculous that is. There was this girl, one of the first times I went there, who was gorgeous and thin. A girl most would pass on the street and think, “Why can’t that be me?” They’d think, “I bet she never has to worry about how she looks.” This particular girl had a huge, disfiguring scar all across her stomach, that most people probably never see. If she’s anything like everyone else on the planet, it most likely took her some time before she felt comfortable in her own skin. But she was beautiful, scar and all. Be a nudist, everyone, just for a day. It will change your entire perspective and self-image.
Class: I reek of it.
And you. I don’t get you. Yeah, eye of the beholder and all that shit. But let me say (without hope or agenda) that you are, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Borrow my eye for a little while. But not literally. Cause that would be creepy and gross.
Religion: When I find it, I’ll let you know.
Catholics, man. I bet that's the appeal right there. A therapist can listen, can maybe make you feel better, or justified, or nothing at all. But nowhere outside of those little booths can you receive a convenient little task (say these words so many times, spin around on one foot, whatever they do), the completion of which will bring you forgiveness. It doesn't really matter that you haven't made amends with the person you did wrong. God forgave you for them; he's more important, after all. No wonder all those people put up without birth control and divorce.
Write to confess. I’ve been a bad, bad girl. Careless. Seek forgiveness in the comments page.
Education: Working on it.
I’m already behind on my first assignment for history.
Family Life: Distant.
Give me research. Give me a topic I can look up in a book or on a website. Don’t make me interview my fucking family. I don’t have time for that shit. I can’t call up my grandmother at 11:30 when I get home from rehearsal and say, “So, what’s up with my dead grandfather who you divorced and never mention? I heard he was in a war.” So I’m resorting to e-mail for this crap, and who knows how long that will take. Worst assignment ever.
Major Relationships & Relationship Dynamics: …crickets…
There isn’t anyone I’m close to right now. At all. And by close I mean someone with whom I openly discuss the events of my life. This is a choice I have made, part of me anyway. I am convinced, every time I open my mouth, that people are just humoring me by listening. Convinced that if I relay my feelings or problems to anyone else, I’ll become fuck-its-Cayley. This is, in large part, due to the events of last year, when I became a highly underpaid therapist. And by highly underpaid I mean free. I miss my old friends. I miss the people who knew me before I had to try to not care what people thought. Do you have to go through something as traumatic as becoming a teenager with another person to gain that level of trust and understanding? Cause no relationship is worth reliving that mess.
Profession: Clichéd.
I’m already on thin ice, and I am not holding to my fast. Giving up meat was much easier. It’s about connection, of course. The connection lacking in my real life I attempt to manifest in my virtual one. I write the things I never speak and it almost feels like talking to someone. I read the words of others and it’s almost like I know them. Giving up the online world was supposed to make me, on top of less prone to procrastination, more capable of relating to people in a real sense. Instead, I’ve just been storing up the explosion you see before you.
Past/Background: Denial’s not just a river in Egypt.
Unless you write it as Da Nile. Then you’re good to go.
Attitudes toward others: If I told you, I’d have to kill you.
I continue to fuck up or pass by big giant blinking neon opportunities. Only when they’re out of reach do I sit back and appreciate (and occasionally obsess over) what they might have been. It’s depressing when there’s someone else you know you’re better than. But it’s worse when you have to admit that someone just has more to offer than you do. She’ll have time for you. She can give you what I can’t. S/he won’t expect too much.
Other: Caffeine doesn’t affect me.
I drank a giant cup of Sleven “energy coffee” before. I assumed it was probably not much different than regular coffee, and that people will believe anything. We’ve passed off decaf as regular before, quite easily. But I have never been so wide awake 21 hours after waking up and working all day. I’m gonna buy stock in that shit. Provided I make it through tomorrow on the zero hours of sleep I’ll be getting tonight.