But, who cares. I spend too much time giving a shit what other people think, when really, they don't think of me at all.
I think I am going to have to force myself to write every night from now on. I used to wonder where my thoughts went, before I had a diary. While those 450000 words were being typed out over the last several years I wondered, "god, was all this shit staying inside before?" It was and it has been again for a year. I don't see any obvious effects of not writing, but they must be there.
Right now I am going through a very reclusive period. I made a ton of new friends in the last year, and spent the last six months going out almost every night. I'm burned out. I forgot that groups of friends are generally made up of the same kind of people that exist out there in the world, blocking the left lane going 60, talking on their cell phone and causing accidents, that sort of thing. I got sick of it. About a month ago, I went into my cave and I have not emerged since, except for Lee and my other friend Lisa, and a few other various events. I haven't seen Michael since the beginning of April... haven't hung out with anyone who knows L. since that whole thing happened. I havent seen Carrie in almost a year. I see Justin every day but I really wish I had my own place, oh GOD I wish I had my own place right now. I'm not sure I've had the urge to reclude this much ever before.
I'm not sure if that is the cause or the result of my current state of mind. I feel this certain sense of empowerment, because it feels great not needing anyone to be around. There have been times in my life when I was alone and wished I weren't. This is very nice. I have people if I need them and I don't. I turned Lee down twice in the last couple weeks, which was unprecedented. Weird.
But I feel this underlying irritation at people. I don't want them around, don't want to have to deal with them. I have not felt friendly in the least lately, which is a first in years. For years if I were depressed, I could still muster up the energy to be happy in public, but lately, I am just like everyone else. Sometimes I don't even have the energy to smile at someone who is helping me somewhere. I don't like that. But, that's where I'm at.
I've let myself out of my food prison, that is, I have decided to stop weighing myself and dieting forever. I decided two things: I want to protect my health, and I want to eat whatever I want for the rest of my life. So now I'm waiting for those two things to come into alignment with each other. For a few weeks it sucked, I wanted to eat everything now that I am allowing myself to, and I had to let myself, which is totally weird. I vowed that I would not sit around arguing with myself over what to eat. So that was bizarre and I think I porked out a little but it is regulating itself.
I got in a fight with my mom about going out for my long walks at night. That really annoyed me. I am 25 fucking years old.
Other than that life is weird; I'll be graduating from school not long from now. By not long I mean in like a year, but a year is such a short time, and I think that finally hit me recently. What will I do then? I've been freaking out about it constantly. I have no idea and I'm terrified.
And... I saw Ben Folds last night. I am disturbingly in love with Ben Folds. It is disturbing in that he is a 38 year old married celebrity who lives on another continent, whom I have never met. And yet I swear I am more in love with him, for real, than I have been with most real people. I saw him last night at Ravinia. It was like a mental orgasm for an hour and half and I seriously think I almost cried when he sang a beautiful song about his little daughter, not because it was so beautiful (and dammit it was) but because he is not my husband and that is not my child... or maybe because I am not his child and that song is not about me. I have never wanted to fuck someone and simultaneously be his daughter before. Not a good feeling.
yeah so, beotch is as fucked up as ever. although I have to say... life has felt like one big giant high school metaphor for the last four years and I think I am finally entering my senior year of drudgery. I'm not sure what happens after I metaphorically graduate. Um, wait, I am entering my senior year of college. Maybe I am just feeling normal, 4 years late.
Sigh.
I'm going to try to write here a lot more. I don't care what you say about my Ben Folds obsession or the fact that I am still obsessed with whether or not I'm fat or the fact that I have given up on ever being in a good relationship and yet still obsess over it on a regular basis. The world can kiss my ass as far as I'm concerned and I don't really give a shit who knows it anymore.
© beotch at
1:13 a.m.
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