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2004-12-06 - 4:44 p.m. DON'T BOTHER READING. POUR MOI, ONLY. FIND A FUNNY WEBSITE INSTEAD. HONESTLY. I'm sorry I can't handle life that well. I know everything is always blown out of proportion for me, but I cannot deal with things any other way. I hate how hard I have to work for everything. Just to get decent marks, to be civil, to present the best person I can to the world, which really isn't all that good. I hate how everything looms, how everything looks so horrible to me. I'm sorry I yell, and I swear. I'm sorry I can't express myself in a rational way. I'm sorry about the way I view things. I can barely function as it is. I'm sorry I will never live up to my potential. I know that in a couple of hours I will have two hounds barking at me. I don't want to hear about how useless I am, how I don't try, how you don't see any progress. You've seen a lot. It simply isn't that large miracle looking type thing you were hoping for. Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean there hasn't been any. I shouldn't have to air all my doings out in front of you to inspect. I'm sorry I'm unhappy. I'm sorry I take all my greivances out on you, but I wish you would stop lecturing. I can't hear about my faults anymore. I know they exist. Every single horrible one of them, and I would change them all if I could. But, I can't. Getting up is a trial. Knowing its really my fault for not getting out this weekend, not calling people, is hard. Sitting behind him is hard. Knowing I'm the only one who worries that much about another person, and what they think about me. Him, and all of them. I'm sorry I was in such a funk this weekend. I should have bucked up, I shouldn't have complained. But, I still like him, without understanding why. I wish I didn't. I wish I could be the best at something, or at least the top. Everyone else is. I can't find something that I'm revered for. I'm so sorry I'm like this. I would change. I really am trying. I wish I didn't need to write this all out on here. I truly hope no one reads it. I feel overly absorbed, and in truth I want some kind of sympathy. But I can't write it down for you. You don't listen. I must sound monotonous. I apologize. I hate how much I have to deal with, how I can't even be civil with you. I don't remember half of what I said to you, I don't know why I had to swear. But I want some compassion. I feel like I'm always bending for you, but I'm berated because I'm not changing fast enough. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I wish you could see this. I wish you could see into my mind, because this is ridiculous. This is not what I think. But I can't express myself. I'm horrible at it. The constant facades. I hate seeing the way I'm acting, the way I hate it, the way I can't manage to change it. I hate my superficialness, my spite, everything. I hate it all. And I'm sorry. |
