keep holding on
I'm making some rice I found at the back of the cupboard. Sidekicks, some sort of cheese thing. It's all the food that's left in the apartment. I'm trying to ignore Dad's speech on the phone about how "ridiculous" it is here in Canada where I don't even eat every day. My God, Dad, calm down. This is what it's like to live on Disability.
This Virginia Tech thing is terrible. I never watch the news, but the last two nights, I can't help but tune in. I still feel a part of the States, no matter how many years I live in the country above them. My dad's been a teacher at the high school level in Denver for as long as I can remember. Incidents like at VT bring back stark memories of tragedies like Columbine, which wasn't even an hour away from the toughasnails high school my dad was teaching at that very day.
Nightmares were terrible this morning. I went to bed at six a.m. after completing my next fic for tamingthemuse. I doubt anyone will read it, and my dad's ongoing optimism in the face of anything negative I say ("Oh, I'm sure plenty of people will read it") is far beyond annoying when he has no idea of the concept of what I'm actually talking about. He's just spreading sunshine where there is none, and it aggravates me. When I say that no one will read it due to its subject and content, I'm being a realist. His sunshine just glares, like off of a compact mirror. It's unnecessary, and only makes me feel as though he takes everything I say to be invalid. He knows nothing about the internet. He can't even work a reply to an email I send to his workplace.
I was so nauseas after I finished everything I could by six this morning. I crawled into bed sooo tentatively, not wanting to vomit on the sheets. This sickness is something I want to kill with my bare hands.
Tony and I have been over for weeks now. Once in a while he calls and gets my hopes up, so I stayed dressed in full make-up well past midnight last weekend so that he could make his "I'll stop by today" promise a churning lie. I hate him for it, but I don't hate him, period. I told him things one drunken night weeks ago that my dad tells me "nobody wants to hear". Things about my past that I have to hide from everyone, because what I've done is so shameful and terrible, making me a shameful and terrible person. Thanks, Dad.
I feel like I have to stop opening up to everyone. That's what Dad insists. Nobody cares, and they're easily put-off, so just be anyone but yourself, and you'll be accepted. And he wonders where my anger comes from and why it won't leave. I'm not enough to keep anyone in my life. Who wouldn't be angry at the world for being that way?
Anyway, I've got to go stir the rice. Here's to hoping I'm not forced to throw it up and see it in reverse.
Just pretend I didn't share anything, and then maybe you can stay friends with the false me that keeps being forced to silence the experiences which have made me who I am.
This Virginia Tech thing is terrible. I never watch the news, but the last two nights, I can't help but tune in. I still feel a part of the States, no matter how many years I live in the country above them. My dad's been a teacher at the high school level in Denver for as long as I can remember. Incidents like at VT bring back stark memories of tragedies like Columbine, which wasn't even an hour away from the toughasnails high school my dad was teaching at that very day.
Nightmares were terrible this morning. I went to bed at six a.m. after completing my next fic for tamingthemuse. I doubt anyone will read it, and my dad's ongoing optimism in the face of anything negative I say ("Oh, I'm sure plenty of people will read it") is far beyond annoying when he has no idea of the concept of what I'm actually talking about. He's just spreading sunshine where there is none, and it aggravates me. When I say that no one will read it due to its subject and content, I'm being a realist. His sunshine just glares, like off of a compact mirror. It's unnecessary, and only makes me feel as though he takes everything I say to be invalid. He knows nothing about the internet. He can't even work a reply to an email I send to his workplace.
I was so nauseas after I finished everything I could by six this morning. I crawled into bed sooo tentatively, not wanting to vomit on the sheets. This sickness is something I want to kill with my bare hands.
Tony and I have been over for weeks now. Once in a while he calls and gets my hopes up, so I stayed dressed in full make-up well past midnight last weekend so that he could make his "I'll stop by today" promise a churning lie. I hate him for it, but I don't hate him, period. I told him things one drunken night weeks ago that my dad tells me "nobody wants to hear". Things about my past that I have to hide from everyone, because what I've done is so shameful and terrible, making me a shameful and terrible person. Thanks, Dad.
I feel like I have to stop opening up to everyone. That's what Dad insists. Nobody cares, and they're easily put-off, so just be anyone but yourself, and you'll be accepted. And he wonders where my anger comes from and why it won't leave. I'm not enough to keep anyone in my life. Who wouldn't be angry at the world for being that way?
Anyway, I've got to go stir the rice. Here's to hoping I'm not forced to throw it up and see it in reverse.
Just pretend I didn't share anything, and then maybe you can stay friends with the false me that keeps being forced to silence the experiences which have made me who I am.