December 07, 2003 :: 12:41 a.m.
like a wind-blown paper boat over uncharted seas
So much for getting things done, eh? 7 o' clock came and I hadn't finished either of the tasks I'd set for myself. I did work on my drawing, but it's not done. Nearly, but not quite. And I was all set to do my 3D presentation, but then the scanner pooped out on me. Or rather, Mason's computer pooped out. Gah.
Adam and I spent the evening watching Buffy over at Joe's. He had to head home around 9, but I stayed until 11-ish. It was fun, but... I don't know. I spent about 45 minutes before I left talking about stuff with Joe, and now I'm just all rampantly depressed. Which isn't entirely new, but it's just hitting harder than usual at the moment. I know I should be grateful for what I have and glad that I'm not sleeping on a park bench in the cold, or starving, or infected with advanced leprosy on my face... and of course I am glad that I'm not dealing with any of these things... but that doesn't mean I'm happy. With how I am, or how things are, or how things are shaping up to be. And the worst part is that there's not a whole lot I can do to change any of it.
I hate school, but I can't quit. Well, I could, but the thought of working retail for the rest of my life shuts down that idea quickly enough. I hate my job, and again, I could quite... but then I'd be intensely broke again, and my dad would be back on my case. I'd sell my kidneys for my own apartment, but the very prospect of me being able to afford rent while in school is laughable at best. So I'm sort of stuck in this festering pit of unhappiness, and JOY! I probably will be for two or three years to come.
There's just this space in my chest that's filled up with unpleasantness. Not my heart; that's incredibly clich�. I'm speaking very literally here - the center of my chest, from just above boob-level down to my solar plexus - is sort of tight and constricted, and pulsing and bad in that stressed out way. Thinking about tomorrow makes me very sad. There's no hope left in this misshapen carcass, I guess. Usually I can think of something about tomorrow that will make me happy, something that I can look forward to... but not tonight. And when I think about the day after tomorrow, and the day after, the week after, and next month... there's nothing. And that sort of scares me.
Also, the fact that I would without pause reply, "Yes, please," if someone came up to me right now and said, "Hey! You interested in dying?" is probably not a good sign.
I don't know. Overwhelmingly, I just don't know. So the two of you who read this can make of it what you will. And I? Will be sleeping. And hopefully dreaming of something much happier than my life.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005