this weekend was batshit.
sleeping over Chelsea's was all right.
today, not even out of town, Mrs. Cooper's van broke down while we were on the way to see Dustin. her wheel was making funny sounds & when we pulled over it was smoking & it smelled like burnt rubber. we had to call AAA & Mr. Cooper; by the time we were on our way to UMass, we only had time to get lunch with Dustin & Michelle & there was no time to do Christmas shopping at the mall.
I gave my first bagpipe lesson today. the guy was very nice, but dad made me nervous because he just stood there the entire time & directed the entire thing. I am the instructor. not me & dad. I hope that didn't leave a negative impression, but it was horribly annoying because I'm very capable on my own. anyway, the guy was already an musician, so the lesson went excellently on his part.
overall, this weekend gets a D-.
how am I going to make it among all of these faceless people? how can I sit in a room so like the ones I've sat in all my life, at a desk like the ones I sit at now, surrounded by people like the ones I'm surrounded by at this point in time, yet so different? I can never remember anything that wasn't Westfield. moving was okay with me before, because it was still here. I hold no emotional attachment to this apartment or to anything in it other than my mother & my cats. but Westfield -- Westfield is my life.
Chelsea, Dustin, Charlotte, Josh, all those friends that I don't consider very close to me but who are still a part of my life, Jester's purple walls & poetry night, snow-covered Elm Street, Piece of My Art, school, Mrs. Drew, Stanley Park, the river, & the horrible traffic that I'd rather be stuck in all my life than leave behind. this place is seeped in memories & feelings & familiarity. I think, deep down in my heart, I've known for a while that this will always be my home & that I want to grow old here. but... leaving now? I wasn't supposed to go out into the rest of strange, scary world for a least a year & a half. I've known for some time now that it'd be hard enough when the time for college & jobs came, but this is too soon. I feel on the verge of a breakdown every time I imagine leaving behind all of this, & now dad's tearing me down the middle & putting me in a place that could be the most wonderful place on earth, but it can still never be home.
why can't he know what it means to be emotionally attached to people, to a place, to a life? all he gives a fuck about is himself. I hate sounding so pessimistic & bitter, but I don't think he ever really considers doing something for someone else that might not make him happy. he must think he's the only important person on this earth.
I don't want to meet people there. I don't want to get a job there. I don't want to live there. I don't want to go to school there. it's not Westfield. it could be heaven, but it could never be home.
I used to think having a chance to start over would be fun. I'd like to strangle myself for ever giving it a thought.
I've been sort of separate from people in general lately, so it's not any particularly strong attachment to people as individuals, but when it all adds up & it's taken away, it leaves a big hole where there was once assurance & familiarity. maybe it makes me boring that I don't like to think with my heart & I don't embrace change, but I'm just not particularly adventurous. I've been taking everything for granted, like knowing where I'm going when I take a walk down streets that have secretly held my footprints a thousand times over for years. I haven't really valued seeing familiar faces in the school halls, having snippets of conversations with buddies between classes, or living ten minutes away from age-old friends. everything here goes back so long in my life & is so familiar, so warm, so perfect in its imperfection.
I suppose now I know the real value of everything I have. I thought I used to know what everything in my life meant to me, but I never thought about the completion & wholeness & routine comfort of everything I've always known. now I finally realize what this life is worth to me.
I don't know how I'll do in school tomorrow. I'm sure I'll cry in half of my classes like a sissy. I'll do it for a week or so, I'm sure, & once I finally get a grip, we'll move & then I'll be trying to hide my face in an ocean of strange things & I'll lose it all over again.
I don't know if I can do this. it's going to tear at me, I know it is, but I have absolutely no choice but to trudge my way on through.
today, not even out of town, Mrs. Cooper's van broke down while we were on the way to see Dustin. her wheel was making funny sounds & when we pulled over it was smoking & it smelled like burnt rubber. we had to call AAA & Mr. Cooper; by the time we were on our way to UMass, we only had time to get lunch with Dustin & Michelle & there was no time to do Christmas shopping at the mall.
I gave my first bagpipe lesson today. the guy was very nice, but dad made me nervous because he just stood there the entire time & directed the entire thing. I am the instructor. not me & dad. I hope that didn't leave a negative impression, but it was horribly annoying because I'm very capable on my own. anyway, the guy was already an musician, so the lesson went excellently on his part.
overall, this weekend gets a D-.
how am I going to make it among all of these faceless people? how can I sit in a room so like the ones I've sat in all my life, at a desk like the ones I sit at now, surrounded by people like the ones I'm surrounded by at this point in time, yet so different? I can never remember anything that wasn't Westfield. moving was okay with me before, because it was still here. I hold no emotional attachment to this apartment or to anything in it other than my mother & my cats. but Westfield -- Westfield is my life.
Chelsea, Dustin, Charlotte, Josh, all those friends that I don't consider very close to me but who are still a part of my life, Jester's purple walls & poetry night, snow-covered Elm Street, Piece of My Art, school, Mrs. Drew, Stanley Park, the river, & the horrible traffic that I'd rather be stuck in all my life than leave behind. this place is seeped in memories & feelings & familiarity. I think, deep down in my heart, I've known for a while that this will always be my home & that I want to grow old here. but... leaving now? I wasn't supposed to go out into the rest of strange, scary world for a least a year & a half. I've known for some time now that it'd be hard enough when the time for college & jobs came, but this is too soon. I feel on the verge of a breakdown every time I imagine leaving behind all of this, & now dad's tearing me down the middle & putting me in a place that could be the most wonderful place on earth, but it can still never be home.
why can't he know what it means to be emotionally attached to people, to a place, to a life? all he gives a fuck about is himself. I hate sounding so pessimistic & bitter, but I don't think he ever really considers doing something for someone else that might not make him happy. he must think he's the only important person on this earth.
I don't want to meet people there. I don't want to get a job there. I don't want to live there. I don't want to go to school there. it's not Westfield. it could be heaven, but it could never be home.
I used to think having a chance to start over would be fun. I'd like to strangle myself for ever giving it a thought.
I've been sort of separate from people in general lately, so it's not any particularly strong attachment to people as individuals, but when it all adds up & it's taken away, it leaves a big hole where there was once assurance & familiarity. maybe it makes me boring that I don't like to think with my heart & I don't embrace change, but I'm just not particularly adventurous. I've been taking everything for granted, like knowing where I'm going when I take a walk down streets that have secretly held my footprints a thousand times over for years. I haven't really valued seeing familiar faces in the school halls, having snippets of conversations with buddies between classes, or living ten minutes away from age-old friends. everything here goes back so long in my life & is so familiar, so warm, so perfect in its imperfection.
I suppose now I know the real value of everything I have. I thought I used to know what everything in my life meant to me, but I never thought about the completion & wholeness & routine comfort of everything I've always known. now I finally realize what this life is worth to me.
I don't know how I'll do in school tomorrow. I'm sure I'll cry in half of my classes like a sissy. I'll do it for a week or so, I'm sure, & once I finally get a grip, we'll move & then I'll be trying to hide my face in an ocean of strange things & I'll lose it all over again.
I don't know if I can do this. it's going to tear at me, I know it is, but I have absolutely no choice but to trudge my way on through.