(no subject)
I'm a little late, but happy 5th anniversary journal. I remembered a week before, and now a week after. Guess you're just about as important to me as everything else isn't. Cheers cocksucker.
I hate noting this annually, but i'd also hate not to. It tempts me to go back and read old shit, then i remember how much i hate myself just from yesterday, and multiply that by 1800. And i don't feel the urge to read as much as i used to. I prefer my blurred version of memories (i have terrible memory) that may or may not have even existed. I lie a lot, and if i can't remember otherwise- which is often the case, my lies become truths. That's why i hate it when other people, most notoriously ex-girlfriends, try to remind of times i fucked up. They know the truth, but i inexplicably have no memory of the occasion, or worse, a totally different version. Then it's an argument that i can't win, because they have the truth on their side, but i get away with it, cause i legitimately don't remember otherwise. I just say "you're probably right, i was such an ass" and that's that for the time being. It's shitty, cause i know they want more from me, and they feel like i'm being an ass again. It's really the best i can do. I think what makes them most angry is the fact that, at the time, my fuckup was so unimportant to me that i didn't take time to note it in the first place. Let alone months, years later. Nothing is really that important to me though. Ha. Even the good things, things that matter more to me than things that should matter to me, those are forgotten or blurred as well. I love myself so much cause i can't remember but a dozen fuckups through the entire course of my life. They sting bad. But 12 is not enough to constantly lower my self esteem. Only enough to randomly kick me in the balls when i shower or walk or drive, whether it's a good day or not. When i'm older, i can't wait to tell some stories of my life, and carry on only the slightest grain of truth through the entire tale. I was a natural born story teller, cause i embellish out of habit. It's a nature i cherish.
suckers. your world is shit. i own mine.
I hate noting this annually, but i'd also hate not to. It tempts me to go back and read old shit, then i remember how much i hate myself just from yesterday, and multiply that by 1800. And i don't feel the urge to read as much as i used to. I prefer my blurred version of memories (i have terrible memory) that may or may not have even existed. I lie a lot, and if i can't remember otherwise- which is often the case, my lies become truths. That's why i hate it when other people, most notoriously ex-girlfriends, try to remind of times i fucked up. They know the truth, but i inexplicably have no memory of the occasion, or worse, a totally different version. Then it's an argument that i can't win, because they have the truth on their side, but i get away with it, cause i legitimately don't remember otherwise. I just say "you're probably right, i was such an ass" and that's that for the time being. It's shitty, cause i know they want more from me, and they feel like i'm being an ass again. It's really the best i can do. I think what makes them most angry is the fact that, at the time, my fuckup was so unimportant to me that i didn't take time to note it in the first place. Let alone months, years later. Nothing is really that important to me though. Ha. Even the good things, things that matter more to me than things that should matter to me, those are forgotten or blurred as well. I love myself so much cause i can't remember but a dozen fuckups through the entire course of my life. They sting bad. But 12 is not enough to constantly lower my self esteem. Only enough to randomly kick me in the balls when i shower or walk or drive, whether it's a good day or not. When i'm older, i can't wait to tell some stories of my life, and carry on only the slightest grain of truth through the entire tale. I was a natural born story teller, cause i embellish out of habit. It's a nature i cherish.
suckers. your world is shit. i own mine.