honor | reverb
10.16.06 : 01:00 "you're so foxy"
i'm writing in this?
wtf is wrong with me?
i'm so tired, so bored, blah blah blah blah.
what do i have to say to anyone? to myself?
nothing.
i haven't wanted to face myself for the past 3 years. i've been making up lies & turning blind eyes in cars on screens to voices. all i do is pretend i'm not here and when people don't like me it's not me they don't like it's the charade i put on. and so i feel sometimes like things are bullshit. that yes you can be unwell and you can assign a different cause to it if you so please but that doesn't make it an excuse. you can be sick from tiredness. you can be tired from doing nothing. you can be well-read and well-versed and all that shit and stay at home.
i want to go to yale.
i got a b last semester so it will never happen.
it will never happen.
it's a lost dream.
but i'm going to keep working towards it. i love school. i want to do well.
i came to london to read and to write and to rediscover myself. i got really close to that, i think i opened up that can of worms at camdentown. it was fun. i got stretchers and new jewellery and all that shit. i felt like everyone was drugged-out and wicked political and it felt like home. i went alone. my friends ditched me. whodathunkit.
so i spent all weekend being denied at clubs because my friends were too drunk to be let in. it ended up well though because i don't really like going out, as much as i love it, sometimes i just don't want to because i just don't feel like it. wow, i'm probably the most responsible drinker here.
so i'm tired and fucked up and confused and.
and no one wants to talk to me.
and everyone who stays friends with me gets a bad reputation.
blah blah blah. what did i ever do? nothing. wrong.
i want you in my brain and in my heart.
15 episodes of gilmore girls fared me well today. i bought a bottle of bacardi and drank it all and i'm still totally coherent and all that. i stopped drinking an hour ago. i don't understand how i can have a tolerance like this. it's so scary, seriously. that's where all my money goes. on alcohol at the weekends. what do i do with my time?
i can't understand how this semester is halfway done...
i can't understand what i'm doing or how i'm living.
i downloaded some awesome no doubt songs i've never heard. it reminded me of being the "nxdqueen" on napster in 7th grade. ahhah. harmless yet somehow humiliating.
when bryan comes back to london on wednesday i'm going to make him take me to that delicious falafel place. i'm a little hurt. i don't know why.
yes i do.
it's because he felt something that was bothering him a lot and i had to drag it out of him and when he finally said it it was like a huge fat confession and it kinda stung but whatever.
i guess i'm getting drunker because i'm writing about him in here. i never do that.
so gilmore girls.
lane's pregnant.
rory's got gorgeous abs and gorgeous hair.
i ate a meal today.
i got on the meal circuit when i first got here but i gave it up (thank god). i'd trade crackers with ketchup for an actual dinner any night.
i haven't had a pizza crust in months. actually i'm lying, i had one when bryan came here 3 weeks ago.
i'm going home in 7 weeks. how crazy is that. i know it sounds like a long time, but i've been so busy i haven't even made it out of london. i've stopped writing letters to people because NO ONE WRITES ME BACK so fuck that shit, ya know.
i've gotten 3 letters in the mail.
i've written 30. 30.
that's 1/10 of the people who decided that maybe they should just reciprocate the effort.
i need a cigarette.
i get upset when ever i think about it.
hey, bacardi.
i like bacardi.
i'm tired.
my teeth hurt.
i cried a lot today. during the last two episodes of season 5. i can't believe her, i can't understand what she's doing...
because SHE'S ME.
the character of rory is pretty much based off of me and my life except for the whole mom-going-back-to-work fiasco that happened a long time ago.
otherwise my mom would have been lorelai.
i want to go to bed. i want to be hugged and to read and to write and to do what i came here for without making the same mistakes.
maybe i'll eat cold vegan spaghetti-os out of a can.
gross.
desperate times call for desperate measures.