Mar 04, 2006 19:13
I'M SICK OF BEING "SHELTERED".
Sarah wants to shelter me. She wants to keep anything from happening to me, like I'm this naughty little child that might wander off and accidentally commit a murder unless someone watches her at ALL times. I don't like it.
I am going out with Danny. Fuck off, anyone who cares. I like him, yes.
Sarah doubts me. Then again, when does she not? I want to be this person she thinks I am: this amazing, fun, cool girl but I am constantly disappointing her and she gets mad and then says "I don't know" when I ask her what's wrong. I know her, or at least I TRY. And then of course she gets JEALOUS of my friends who try and cheer me up, ignoring my protests of "I DON'T LOVE ANYONE LIKE I LOVE YOU."
I have no idea what my thoughts are, but I don't need my fucking parents being faggots, I don't need to be babyed like I have been my whole life, I need to get OUT of here. I need to go out and do drugs and die and get reborn and live a little. I need a huge fat slice of life that I will NEVER get while fucking living in Santa Clarita, California. I'm fucking in a box here.
I'm trapped and surrounded by the same people every second of my life. I'm trapped and surrounded by the same THOUGHTS every second of my life. There is no escaping it, minus the few people who can poke holes in this cage and give me some air: Sarah, Meagan, Monique.
Monique Monique Monique. Sarah doesn't like her. I tell Sarah about me and her conversations, even show her the texts she sends me and the online conversations we have. Sarah has never met her but hates her. She says she constantly patronizes me and puts me down, acting like she's 40 and I'm a naughty 2 year old. Which she does, I guess. But I don't know. I feel like that with pretty much everyone now.
I have the worst grades I could ever get. I have straight C's. This is horrible, but for some reason provides no insinuation for me to raise them. More of a thought pattern of "Well they're already down, might as well lower them...".
I'm so unbelievably stressed and I desperately want to go to my room and split my arms wide open, because I don't know what else to do. I've screamed in pillow after pillow and meditated and ran around and I am still full of this bubble.
God.