Yes, I know it's been an awfully long time. To be honest, I don't have much time to write this. I'm at a very stressful week in my life, and a very... overwhelming period of time. It feels like my thoughts are working faster than I can produce with pen on paper, so I decided to update here, in Livejournal.
The thing is, I'm reading "This Side Of Paradise" by Fitzgerald, which is basically a portrait of the main character. It's not a 'story' book. I love it... Because it makes me think. Having to do a project on the American Dream is making me think. There is so much in the world that I never considered. I find myself casting alot of cynicism aside and just asking questions. I'm sure I'll always doubt myself-but I'm forcing myself not to be so utterly black and white. (Even though I never considered myself to be.)
There's just so much to do this week... The midterm exams are here and I couldn't be more stressed. I have such a HUGE project due on Friday. (A magazine to be created from scratch.) It's just so thought-consuming. Anyway, I thought I would just get all that out in the open.
P.S Being nice is hard, but worth it. I'm trying to make subtle changes everyday. It's important to REALLY listen to people. To give them sound advice, or encouragement, if you don't have any. Speak your mind, but wait your turn. Always tell the truth. Don't be two faced.
I think I first learned to stop crying when I was in Gr. 1 and I would be plagued with the thought that everyone would be dead by the time I came off the school bus. I didn't want anyone to see me cry, so I would turn away and try to hide it. It worked. Now I'm a master faker. I can push tears away really easily.
But now, in this moment, it feels like that time years ago. When I'd be looking through the bus window and my mind wandered. It always would play out vivid scenes of my parents or people close to me dying. (Usually my mom) and it hasn't stop since. I just want it to stop. Is everyone so naturally morbid?
I had an exam for school today. It was a French ecoute and I think I aced it. I'm talking 100 percent. I was supposed to get picked up at 9:30 and Mama forgot about me. I waited until 12:00, famished and dizzy from the sun. I would have waited even longer if it wasn't for Elena, who asked her mom if I could grab a ride. I felt so ashamed. I HATE needing a different family to help me. It's not right.
Anyway, i'm at home. Mama isn't here. Her call is gone. I called her cellphone, and she still isn't picking up. The stupid automated voice keeps saying how she's unavailable. And so OBVIOUSLY my mind is choosing to go off on it's retarded morbidity. I can see the car crash happening in my mind. Or her bones breaking in on themselves. And it would be ALL. MY. FAULT.
I really, really don't know what I would do if Mama died. I have no idea. Everything i do in life is just for her validation. I'll admit that right now. EVERYTHING is for her to care about me. If she died, what would be the point of going on? What do I have to prove? I would sleep around, go on drugs and kill myself. I swear that's exactly what I'd do. When it's put like this... So clearly out in the open... She really is the only reason i'm alive. It's all about how she sees me.
And so I think I get why Christopher is so angry. I totally understand now. He hates the person Mama sees when she looks at him. I see it so clearly now, everything is just falling into place. "What would we do if we knew nobody was watching?" That's a quote that has been on the Math room wall since the beginning of the year. I think I finally know exactly what it means.
I don't know what to do... I find that whenever I'm upset about something, I completely shut down. I've worked so hard at detaching from my pain, that I've lost the ability to feel anything at all. I keep watching myself shatter from the inside out. I want to feel something so badly... Anything. I don't care if it's pain, it's better than this. I've already described the feeling, haven't I? That feeling of being cast out of my own body-a spirit watching it's vessel. What is this? _________________________________________________________
I woke up very tired this morning because of the final band concert last night. The concert was really depressing for me, because I was mostly alone. Nick's best friend Anna was there so of course, he didn't listen to me. I'm jealous of Anna because she has a life. He just seems so much more comfortable around his other friends. Why are they able to make him happy? Nick and I have some good times... I just don't like how everybody is more important to me than I am to them. I hate that. Why do I worship my friends and I'm not even appreciated. Nobody takes me seriously.
The first and only time I've told Adrienne that I've considered suicide, she said, "You have? Why?" I wasn't expecting her to be anticipating such a thing, but she made it sound like it was no big deal. Like, "Why would you ever consider that?" I kind of stuttered out some answer, I don't know what. I heard computer typing in the back. Then a brief, "Well... Don't." Like she would care.
I'm sorry if I'm sounding bitter or immature, but it seems like Adrienne doesn't know what it means to have a friend. Friends aren't tools for self validation. You have them, you're supposed to care about them. Talk to them, understand them, trust them. She literally doesn't care about or listen to anything I say. Every time I bring up something, she never listens unless it has to do with her. I'm so tired of that. And I'm tired of her speaking down to me too. I just want someone to actually care about what I'm saying. She didn't even remember i wanted to be a psychologist. It's not like it just slipped her mind either-she literally had no idea! Just really simple stuff that you just know about a friend. She doesn't care and we've been friends for 9 years!!
I had gym first. I'm beginning to think my only purpose as Nick's friend is for him to vent about Chelsea. Why doesn't he care about me?I have a life too... I guess that's not fair though... My memory is being very selective. Nick does listen to me. And he does actually care I think. He is one person that actually retains part of who I am. As if I mean something. But maybe I'm only a filler friend. I was sitting on the bench, studying an oral for French. I almost got hit with the ball so many times. I hated how invisible I felt. I guess I also brought it on myself though. I was the one not participating. EMO. I caught sight of my sister sitting in the same position as me, so I readjusted my posture. I just don't want to be infiliated with her. I'm not ashamed... I just don't want to be a Bradshaw. I want to be a real person, like everyone else.
I find that lately, my thoughts have been so loud. I can be in the middle of doing something, and I'll get an itch to write. Soon the will do put words on paper will consume me, and I'll actually have to stop what I'm doing and write. It doesn't matter what, it doesn't matter where. That's what this is right now; an urge.
While I'm hear, I might as well find something of remote importance to write about. I'm reading "Shadow in the Wind" again. What a great read. I'm not someone who reads books more than once. I buy them if I like them simply to know that I own them. But this book... It belongs to Auntie Roula. I have to own it-it's everything I aspire to be when it comes to writing.
I'm sitting by the computer on my own. I can hear faint piano music going on from my room-Stephanie's default choice of activity. Her whole life must get so repetitive after a while: Piano, draw, sleep, computer, eat. That's her whole life as far as I can see. But really, what can I see? Nothing.
Speaking of sight, the english exam requires that I write a creative piece about something that has to do with the concept of sight. There are really 2 parts to the exam-the first being an essay. I'm choosing to write a literary essay about the story "Lenses" by Leah Silverman. I'm nervous about how i will lay it out. For my creative piece, I want to write a poem. It's going to have something to do with a girl and her imaginary friend. I want the poem to switch in an abstract way between the girl and a less innocent being. I just haven't figured out the main plot of the poem, or more importantly, the other person that will combat the verses of the girl. To be more clear, I want it to have the same effect as the "Rear-View Murder" poem I wrote:
The girl in the white dress In the park with the dandelions, the place we always play Running with her copper arms spread Watching colors-green, yellow, blue Blinded was this girl-blinded by her beguilement Zooming fast and sure across the road Oblivious! Mindless! It’s her turn to run-I hear the beat of her sandals Had you but looked beyond your innocence… Cluck, cluck, cluck she stops-She stops forever Oh little girl-you without a name, without a face Her scream was so loud and scary So sweet and pure your masquerade It almost made my head explode It is by your maidenhood that I have plunged so low Even though the monster has already passed and ran away I leave the collision, scarred with the burden of your youth She won’t get up, she keeps moaning and scaring me And the blood of your murder I hate her for scaring me-I hate her now From the mirrors of my weapon, my gaze wanders to you Her eyes are still open wide-maybe she sees me I know it will never waver-can never waver I think she is watching me and I can’t look away For your dress will never be white again It’s all my fault
It looks cooler in WORD, because I'm able to make the font all bold for the older voice and all small and thin for the girl's voice. Basically, the older voice is a man who has ran over a girl by accident. The second voice is the girl who saw her friend being run over. Normally I'm not a fan of what I write, but I really like how this poem turned out. I love the contrast. It may be weird, but when I write a poem, I picture how it would be read aloud. Like at a poem reading place. I can see the man starting the poem and the girl beginning her line softly on the last word of the man's line. Then the man would pick up again after the last word of the girl's line. They would keep echoing off each other.
Um... I'm talking to Dana at the same time on MSN. But... I have quite the update. I actually feel kinda sheepish almost. Well, Chelsea and Nick are taking a "break". Long story short, she has "feelings" for another guy, Charlie and after a long drama and a bunch of advice, they split. greater good. But i see them getting back together in the future. The ironic thing is, ever since my last entry, I've been okay with their relationship. I was FINALLY able to except it. I just decided I didn't want it draining me anymore, and I was happy and free. Now this happens. What the fuck?
I'm reading "The Secret Life Of Bees" and it's put me in a very... reflective mood. I find myself wondering about silly things. Like, how many times has I walked through the front yard, not using the concrete path to get to the door? I just walk a straight diagonal through the tulip garden, using that same rock in the ground, almost like a stepping stone. It seemed so much bigger back then. It's hard to imagine that everyone is just a bigger version of themselves. Of course that concept calls for a big, fat "duh!" but... It's weird. People are always changing and growing. It's like the soul has been thrown into a body and just has to take control of whatever they're given. I remember when I was about 11 and I couldn't sleep, I would wonder about how a soul ended up in a body anyway. I would stare up at the barred matress over me and think of a story I'd write about it. Something about a soul community (which strangely resembled hell as cartoons depict it to be: Red volcanic atmosphere) and the main character was a soul (which looked like a purple tinted patch of mist) that is assigned to a body but longs to be in it's before life's body. Weird, I know. Even weirder is that I was coming up with random stories even then.
I'm sitting by the computer, and Dr Phil is playing in the background. The episode is about abuse. Obviously I'm alittle uneasy about the irony.
I think everything that happens in life is some kind of sign. I'm a nut for karma and things having a reason. I've noticed that Elena is always trying so hard to impress Ema. She literally worships everything the girl says. She's always trying to be that person. I see the way she watches Ema, in that way that she would give anything to be the most important thing in her life.
When I was thinking about the injustice, I thought about how it's exactly like that with me. Towards Chelsea. I just never realized how crazy it is to seek validation from someone so desperately, until I saw it with my own eyes. Everyone is a person, I can't believe I let myself be pulled into such a trap. And as much as it sounds weird, it's hard to stop.
I mean, just before, I signed into MSN and Chelsea is on. Usually it's me talking to her right away with a delayed response on her end. (She actually has a life.) It took all that I had just to let HER come to ME.
There's something else I've learnt this week that I'm working on. I was talking to Adrienne on the phone last Friday. We got into a conversation about Adrienne's depressed mom. She started talking about how selfish it is to know something is wrong with you and not do anything about it. Hearing her say it is when I realized how right she is. She this other thing too that really hit home. I was just dumbfounded.
The point is, i'm changing... But I have to honest, I get tired of trying to be a different person. If I'm trying to be perfect so badly, what does that make me right now? Right now I'm fat and rude and depressed. I'm ugly and heart-broken. I get bad marks and I have no job. I'm trying to reverse all these things... But I'm so scared to lose myself. It's not like I can just.. I don't know. I don't know what I'm afraid of! I just don't know if there's a spot waiting for me. In that perfect line.
I just want to fall in my comfort zone so badly... Eating like a pig to distract myself, I want to cut myself and I want the blood to drip to the floor and never stop.
I have a new story idea by the way. I'm going to call it "The saturated hourglass." It's about a fat woman named Emenuella Smith. She's 674 pounds. I'm thinking the story should start of with the words "I never really cared for numbers anyway."
I feel so bitter and jealous. Everybody has a life and I don't. My only life seems to be about clingling on and trying desperately to be part of everybody else's.
I miss being the first person Chelsea and Nick would actually want to talk to. It sounds so selfish...Because they didn't even do anything wrong. They're just inlove, that's it. It's me, I'M finally the problem, I'm the one who can't accept it. And I hate myself for it so much. I'm just so stupid, but i'm just so, so jealous and I can't stop feeling sad about it! It seems like everything I do-all this shit about focus and hardwork-it's just one big cover-up. I'm going to explode. I can't stay underwater, holding my breath forever. I'm so tired of caring. It shouldn't be a constant battle, I shouldn't always be trying to distract myself. It's not supposed to be this hard. I can't handle it. And who the hell am i supposed to burden, huh?? Nick has Chelsea, Chelsea has Nick. I couldn't be bothered to stand Adrienne's false compassion, Margo doesn't know anything about this sort of thing, and Dana just isn't realistic enough and Elena already has her BEST friends to worry about. I don't want a new best friend. I want my old ones back. And it's just so selfish... They're finally happy, and all i care about is MY feelings. I love them so much, I'd do anything for them. It just hurts so much to be alone, I always feel alone now and there's nothing I can do.
God, I hate feeling angry. But it just happens so often.
Anyway, what's been on my mind the most is my whole life. Different aspects of it. Like my friends-I'm interested to know more about them. Why they have certain traits and behaviours or things like that. Also about my future. There's so much ahead of me. I think I want to go to Dawson college and take a social studies 2 year course. Then I will hopefully continue to Concordia University where I will finally pursue psychology.
I've been working SO hard on my marks this term. 3rd term. I can't wait to see the product of all my hard work. These are my realistic ideal marks. (My ACTUAL ideal marks are 90s lol duh)
Apparently with those ideal marks, my average would be...79. Wow...You know, I was REALLY counting on an 80. It's like a big slap in the face, like i'm 1 step behind everything. Oh well. We'll see.
Sometimes, sitting on the bus beside Nick, I feel like he doesn't care about what I'm saying. It makes me feel like I'm not good enough, and it makes me feel ugly and fat-Like i'll always be alone. Like nothing I say is worth listening to. Like I don't have a life. Sometimes, in the presence of his bored expression, I find myself bringing up Chelsea-ANYTHING that has anything to do with her-just so he'll care about what I'm saying. It feels like he only ever cares about Chelsea now. That's all he truly cares about.
Sometimes I wish I can cry so everyone can see that there's something wrong with me. That it's not easy and so I'm trying really hard. Sometimes I wish someone can be proud of me. I think it will make me feel validated in some way. It will make me feel validated. Like I'm worth something. I want to know that I'm worth something.
