HATEHATEHATE
Yo. I got a new computer. Well actually, I got a new computer a few days ago. (For my birthday, which I knew of but didn't, really.) It doesn't have Word on it, though. Um, oh well? Guess I'll just...type in e-mail and e-mail it to myself and copy-paste it to a computer at school? Because I will need it for that.
I sort of needed a computer, maybe, I guess, because my old one was...old. But not really? It was '08, refurbished. But. It kept dying on me, and blue-screening and restarting and I couldn't search anything. But I was doing fine. (Oh wow this keyboard is quiet. Whoa.)
But but I did not come on here to talk about my new computer (it has a pretty big screen perhaps I will be brave enough to Firefox it?) I
came here to talk about college, and today, and how much everything I do sucks. E-yup.
So today. It started off pretty alright. My (best) friend spent the night. She slept in the same bed as me. (It is a twin.) See, I wasn't planning on her doing that. The last time she slept over we slept in the same bed, and my mother decided I like girls. So this time, I told her that was not going to happen and pulled out the trundle bed. I told her lay down and get comfy (she'd said she was tired), while I went to the bathroom to change. When I came back, she was all cuddled up in my bed. When I made to lay down in the trundle she pulled me down into bed, with her.
Well. Okay, fine.
Except she didn't want to stop there. She...did things. It was fine, because it really was nothing (besides being told I was going to be a rape victim and "you don't need to see my hands to feel them"). Though we were laughing a lot, and my bed is old and ricketey, and I fell out of it at least three times. But. (Yeah we probably woke the house.)
But when we woke up the next morning(/later that day) it was fine. We had breakfast, she borrowed my shirt-that-was-kinda-my-brother's?, we read a kitty-manga on her phone, bothered all my cats,
and ate gummy sushi.
Like, it was gross. It looked really cute, with organs and stuff (I currently have the brain in a jar on my shelf), but, OH GOD, the taste. It was like...minty plastic with puke. Only worse. (Somehow she ate three.) I could only eat the green eye (which I pretty much forced me to do, I don't like gummy things), and I'm pretty sure it'll be inside me forever. haunting me. With it's terrible taste.
And after that...she made me call people. This is where it morphed to hell and I ruined everything ever.
Alright. So. I have to observe and 'certified audiologist' for five hours before I go back to school next week. Good, ja? Not that hard.
Except for where I have to find people. I have already tried three places. None of them have called me back.
So, on a Saturday afternoon, no one is going to be at the office, right? So I can just leave my (rehearsed and typed out) voicemail.
But no, not really. Because it really is that hard. For me, anyway. Because.
I cannot talk on the phone. It kind of honestly terrifies me. I just...I really can't do it. I freak out. Yeah, yeah, grow up, get over it, I know, I get it. But please, exactly how am I supposed to get over something when I am scared of it? Okay, some things I can force myself to do (like, hey, eat disgusting gummy-things), but I've never been able to talk on the phone -- not even to relatives and friends. I get all weird.
Which kind of happened.
I called this one place (it had, like, twenty letters in it's name, all one word), and got a human. An actual female, sitting in an office on a Saturday afternoon. Naturally, I kind of froze up. I wasn't expecting it. I'd been distracted by the cat sitting on the table, being cute. So the person on the other end said something, and then there was a pause. A long pause.
The kind you can't recover from.
So, I freaked out. I said something like "uhm...I, uh. I-I...I'm so sorry!" and hung up. And cursed, a lot. Then I started crying and sank to the floor and fuckit if I'm being 'over-dramatic' I am NOT doing that again. I don't know how the hell I'm getting the thingers, but I can't call.
After I cried for a bit (and was force-cuddled by my friend, as my sister stood there and watched and my mom told me to get over myself) I took nail clippers and ripped some skin off my pointer and middle finger, and then went outside and stabbed the ice on our pool. Yup.
We had this black metal pole-thing that I just stabbed and stabbed into it, and then kind of reached in with my hands and crushed some of it that way and who cares if I get all soaked and my hands go numb it's not like I can feel it it's not like it matters.
And when I got back inside my hands were all dirty and bloody. (How did that happen? But I do prefer them that way...) After being warned not to tear a hole in the tarp (which I did, of course I did, and no one will believe it was an accident and that I really do feel bad), I took a walk. A long one. And when I came back my mom was walking out the door to walk the dogs and I hid behind a tree. So my friend came out and we took a walk (even though my hands were still bloody and dirty and I was mostly pretty numb). Another long one. (I really missed my hat.) We learned that we could not get back the way we came without going backwards. Oh well.
In all, the point of this is that I hate myself, I'm pretty much worthless, and I will never amount to anything. (<= trufax.)
Call it what you will. I don't care. I just needed to tell someone/something that didn't already know. (But whatever. 'S not like anyone's gonna see it here, either. I'd probably be better off writing it all in my notebook...but whatever it's already all typed.)
(There's still so much more to this, with feelings and all, but.)
AAAAUURGGH I CAN'T GET THAT PLASTIC TASTE OUT OF MY MOUTH. Seriously? It's 2:07 am, I ate it more than twelve hours ago, and I still taste it.