(no subject)
Every day is closer and closer to my impending failure. And I'm just sitting here... accepting it. Why can't I just get the ambition to do something about it? It's like every day I care less and less about it. But every day it bothers me like crazy. Everything bothers me like crazy. God damn, I just want a good day. A real good day. I keep telling you my days are good because you seem to think I'm just a ball of depression or something. It sure would be easy to blame this all on you. But I don't, because it is half my fault. I just want to shake you and scream at you and make you see that it is impossible that anyone will ever love you as fully as I do. And make you see that I deserve better. God... It's so funny... Like six months ago I remember saying to myself.... Honestly, Amanda, how long are you going to put up with this shit? Apparently forever. Apparently my loving has you has trumped loving myself. It has completely obliterated my sense of self-respect, self-worth, self-confidence... But am I going to do anything about it? No. Because maybe once a week or so, you do the right thing, and restore all of that... And that really irritates me. I hate the fact that you have that over me, and you don't even know/care. You have this power to fix things. Make me feel better. And you don't fucking use it most of the time. 20 bucks says tomorrow I go to class, come home, try to find something today and not succeed, sit here, and hope that you will call or stop by or anything. And I look at all these journal entries and hate myself even more. BECAUSE THEY'RE ALL THE SAME THING. And I swore I'd never be this girl. I swore I'd never do this. The worst part is that with all this tension inside of me constantly, I sit here and think about what I can do to get rid of it... And I'll find someone to get stoned with, or have a beer, or maybe I'll just simply take a long shower... But on the really bad days, the ones that actually make me cry (or when I take a page from your book and throw things) I stare at that little brown box filled with past memories. But that's all I do... stare.