8 posts tagged “angst”

Close-up

1 comment

I want a best friend again. I need that one person I can actually trust. And I can't tell anymore, whether not having one is just because there aren't any to have, or because I've become the kind of person who will be always, deep down, be completely alone.

Bedroom View

It feels like I'm forgetting something. All day, I just keep wondering what big due date or forgotten thing is going to pop up, but nothing comes. It really looks like I'm done. High school is over. If I want, I don't ever have to see another classroom again. It's a trip. I need to stop talking about it.

I'm really worried about myself in the future. I really don't care about my life. I just care about my dreams. I dream about living in the redwoods and finding my prince in shining armor and being healthy and fit and doing well in school and being passionate about my studies, but I kind of feel like when I do finally get there I'll just shift my dreams to whatever comes next - owning a house and having a job or whatever.

I want to start caring. I want to care about the heres and nows and not just the maybes and the laters.. but I can't. I can't force myself to care. Every now and then I'll get into it, I'll start going on more runs and clean my room and actually hang out with people, and then it's like somebody flipped a switch and I just don't give a crap anymore, and I retreat to my room and watch random television shows and movies and read books and write. I feel like I'm never going to be anyone.

In other news, there's a new inhabitant of the pond! He's a water skeeter, and you have no idea how happy it made me to see him when I was sitting out there today. I've always thought they were awesome, and now I have one of my very own! I hope he has some babies or brings friends or something, because he's cool. And he helps eat all the dead things in there, too. If the pond wasn't in such a disgusting state I'd take a picture.

Speaking of pictures, I do plan to keep putting pictures in my posts. It makes things prettier, and I can actually do it now that I got the fucking uploader to work. My uncle came over yesterday and he was on my computer and he was like, "This thing is slow!" and I was like YES. I felt so justified. Everybody goes, "Waaah my computer's slow" but mine ACTUALLY IS. SO THERE.
 

I really like my alone time. I love to sit in my car and just listen to music, or take long drives and just listen to music, or just go out and find some secluded place and sit there and listen to the wind. I love it because I don't do it for anyone but myself. It's different than going on the internet alone, or reading a book alone, because when I'm reading about characters or chatting or playing games, it's not really the same.

Today was the last day of the play. We strike the set tomorrow, and I'm glad. I don't really care for drama, and while I liked the musicals, I wasn't even very attached to those. After curtain call though, we were all just standing around and everyone was hugging and getting flowers.. I hate that time, and I usually make myself as busy as I can cleaning up so I can avoid the obvious lack of love for me in that crowd, but with drama there isn't much to do. Ryan came up to me after the show tonight and he gave me a hug, and it was so kind of him because it wasn't like one of those awkward crowd situations where he was kind of obligated to hug everyone.

I don't know if it was completely random or if he knew I was feeling down, but it was still nice. It's kind of frustrating how it's so easy for me to lie nowadays. I mean, sometimes when I'm lying about something funny I can't help but smile, but when it comes to my thoughts and my feelings I feel like the biggest faker in the world. Yeah, yeah, the world doesn't revolve around me, but I wish I could at least feel like I actually had my feet on this world. Sometimes I just feel like a ghost. I don't stand out, I don't make an impression, people don't know who I am. I never really get compliments.

In the end, it's always just me. I can't see myself having a life where I have lots of solid friends, or a family. The only thing I can see for sure being in the future is me, with my hobbies, and my thoughts. At least I'm the kind of person who can do okay on only that much.

I'm getting myself really depressed now. I'm just gonna go to bed. Screw school tomorrow, seriously.

I want to cry and kill someone at the same time. And of course I'm getting this much emotion because of a television show, folks. Freaking Doctor Who, that's what. AARHRHGHJFGHIUDRHGIJKLFJGOPRKFL;SDMFPOSEJFLK. I don't understand why they need to change the doctor's companion! Ahhhhahaaa whyyy.. Rose and the Doctor. It was like TRUE LOVE.

Fuck. God damn TV shows. I'm hearing British accents in my head now, and I'm kind of thinking in a British accent too. Whhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy did it have to go that way...

It's not even the kind of sad ending where it's still kind of good in a way because that's the end. No, the series goes on folks, and I love the Doctor and all but my favorite part was seeing their chemistry and interactions and stuff. Even in the wackiest sci-fi shows, that's what makes it awesome for me. The relationships between the characters.

Excuse me while I go kill myself now.

HELLO, AM I THE ONLY DEEP PERSON IN THE WORLD?

God. Feels like it. People talk and talk to me and no one really wants to know how I actually feel. I don't even know my parents anymore. They buy me dinner then eat it before I get home, don't bother to save me a spot so I park down the street and am late to school everyday because of it, then I come upstairs and it just reeks like cigarettes and when I go to ask if my mom has sent the signed permission thing for Humboldt I have to wait outside their locked door for ten minutes and then when my dad finally opens it he's just pissed and yelling at me and they're all jumping to conclusions about all the things I'm doing wrong right that moment or have done wrong in the day (even though I just got home).

For all the people I give favors without asking for anything in return, for every time I say "No well he's actually really nice," when people talk shit about other people, I come home and just feel like shit and I know there probably isn't a soul out there giving me any good thought. Because honestly, no one really cares about anyone other than themselves. I'm excited for college because I think I might meet people there who will change my life. I'm excited to leave this stupid family and this stupid house and never come back. I don't want to. I can't even ask for money to buy toothpaste without them making me feel like some spoiled brat who only comes to talk to ask for money.

Anyways, I feel better now. It's not really that big of a deal, I guess. Everyone has problems with family. I can't expect to actually enjoy their company. I don't think those families exist, the ones where Mom cooks dinner every night and Dad brings home enough money so we can talk about something other than our debt.

My life will get better, because I'm going to make it. I'm going to get a job and save up money to buy myself a better car, something to replace my stolen iPod, and I'm going to go to Humboldt and room with Lizzie and hang out with my cousins a bunch more and meet new people and lose weight and learn a lot about life and about myself and it's going to be great because I'm not waiting anymore.

The question is where to get a job? I know too much about the places in this town, so I'm too picky. I may try the Starbucks by McDonalds, Pet Arcade again, or.. I can't really think of any other places. I know my first job is just supposed to suck, but I'm not going to let myself get stuck doing daily shit that I can't stand. Or maybe I'll work at Rolling Hills, or I can work at Harvest Market with Caitlin. :P

At musical rehearsal tonight, the actors were doing some dance stuff so we all walked the props back to the music room. With two boxes of cardboard typewriters I strut out on my own, and then I'm alone. The singing is fading away, and that crazy little choreographer woman is yelling something. She gets the whole group so energized, she's just amazing.

The thought that hits me then is how much this feels like those moments in movies when The Heroin steps outside of a party and then The Villain (or variation of such) comes out and 'gets' her. I'm kind of walking slower now, liking the silence, but I don't really think I'm much of a heroin. My hair is never styled right, you can see where the mascara brush left footprints around my eyes, my skin is red, my lips are too small, my jaw is too big, and then I just want to throw those damn cardboard typewriters and their dented pieces of paper and watch them all tumble and flutter away in the wind and just turn around and walk away from everything.

I want meaning in my life. I love musical tech, but it tires me out so quickly. I'm not meant for this - talking to a billion people, remembering a billion random things about vanity tables and patching lights and sliding doors, trying to be in control without becoming The Scared Angry Bitch who uses aggression as defense. It's fun, but it's too much.

For a long time I thought meaning meant having really close friends and having a boyfriend and the like. Then, whether it was me or them who started it, I sort of built a wall between my deeper self and the world. I might have planted each painful brick, but it was the people I knew who slapped on the mortar, every time they didn't ask me how or why, every time they took a single 'no' as an answer from me, every time they forgot to pick me up from school. Even my immediate family feels kind of foreign to me at times.

I still have those dreams about people reading my diary and finally feeling like I can have friends who really know me, but I don't try so hard anymore. Instead I wrote in lj, but after that just became a pile of drama and bad feelings, I started to write here. I don't really expect or need people to read these long-ass, stupid emotional rant posts, but somehow it just feels better knowing they could. It gives what I write the legs to walk and the will to live.

High school sucked, but I seem to have luck for a better chance at life every four years or so, and so I'm excited for college. I learned a lot about people and about myself at San Marin. I'm so much different now than I was when I came here, it's amazing.

Now I'm tired and I can't remember why I even started this post, ugh... The time I waste trying to sort out this stuff in my head.. ridiculous. AND I DIDN'T DO MY BIO HOMEWORK. UGH. "Screw that class, seriously," says the girl who wants to be a biologist.

I've kind of accepted that I'm going to be messy all of my life. I'll never really have the motivation to finish anything, just start a lot of things. I'll probably never be satisfied, probably won't marry the person right for me, probably have a family that's a living hell and a house that fits it. I'll probably end up hating work, working long hours for little pay and then spending it in all the wrong places. I really can't see myself achieving anything more, because that's just my personality. When I walk around at school I can wear my secondary skin of the achiever, the socializer, the person in control, who gets things done and stops for nothing. I come home and shed that skin for me, and realize there's nothing more I want to do other than lay around and dabble in my many random hobbies. Knitting, aquarium keeping, writing. There isn't really any pattern to my madness, and I don't think I'm appealing enough as a person for anyone to ever really delve in beyond my carefully constructed exterior to really realize who I am.

Lately I've come to terms with a lot of things about myself, after discovering a lot of INFP discussion boards. I used to always think I was some sort of ugly duckling because I was so lazy and I spent all my time dreaming about things but never actually doing anything, but I guess I really am not the only one like me in the world. What's the most interesting about INFP's (as goes for any introvert) they're pretty good at playing pretend, fitting the roles that the world wants to see of them, so I could come off as shallow and always 100% just fine, when really I'm probably a lot deeper than the rest of the world. My introvert side hides so much of who I really am, that I feel like I actually need to explain myself to justify the behavior I watch from somewhere inside of me, hating myself for being a dumb, ditzy, hair-dye-addicted idiot. I actually feel the need to write posts like this, as if now everyone will understand me and my need for deeper bonds with people will be justified. As if.

Tomorrow I have musical rehearsal, where I'll have to get back into my secondary skins and play the big game of life. Push the right buttons and print out the right documents and the world will love you. Show flaws, get naked, say things that make absolutely no sense, be impulsive, be spontaneous, love everyone, even do so much as try too hard? The world hates you. You're the weird girl, the strange one who actually enjoys researching the many different complicated genus and species names of Afican Cichlids, the girl who actually thought the play on beastiality was interesting, the one who likes everyone else so much more that she gets used by the people she chooses to confide in for rides places. Of course I don't know who would do stuff like that, because with my skins zipped up I can't be mistaken from the rest of the extroverted, judgmental, logical, planned, NORMAL people that have made this world so much harder to live in for anyone who is so much a few skin cells from being perfect. Too fat, too skinny, too big of a nose, too small of eyes, too white, too black. The more people are born into this world, the pickier we seem to get.

I always have dreams where people open my diary, the private entries on my lj, read my mind, learn my secrets... And somehow, it's always a vindicating dream. I have dreams of being loved and I have dreams of trusting people. What's funny is a lot of the people I love and trust in my dreams are completely made up characters, and by The World's standards probably some of the more ugly people you'll meet.

Then again, maybe this is all I'll need. I've functioned like this for most of my life, haven't I? I can just keep wearing the skins and force myself through a life molded to fit a person that I'm not, and when I get home each night to the dark, sloppy confines of the den I call paradise, I can crack open my journal or pull up a blank entry box and finally undo the strings holding my face together and let it all out. Even if I know not a soul will hear me, even if I will be mocked behind backs for being the weird girl who writes posts that breach taboo emotional boundaries or uses funny stupid metaphors and obviously thinks she's so smart and great (can't you tell I love myself?), I have a place to release. Even if it's second rate to a friend to connect to, even if it makes me forget how to be anyone other than the person I'm expected to be in the presence of others, at least I have this. Even when my life goes exactly how I predicted it and the only thing I look forward to is the latest freshwater plant CO2 injection method, at least I'll be able to write.

I have a serious problem. Today I stayed home from school, and when I could have been cleaning or doing homework or just being productive, I slept, watched tv, and surfed the internet. I have a serious problem with laziness. I have little self-discipline, and I've got a strange addiction to reading articles on the internet. How-to, self-help, psychology articles, whatever they are, I read them.

I knew it was bad the moment I thought "Maybe there's a self-help article on how to break your addictions of reading self-help articles." I lurched up and decided I have to do something about this. It's a serious problem. I can't spend the rest of my life like this.

So I walked over to my computer, clicked on Vox, and opened the page to begin writing a post.

...

ARGH. Someone shake me out of this. I waste so much of my time doing absolutely nothing. I know for a fact I spent about thirty minutes total today doing anything productive. I know this because I counted every second. They were an agonizing thirty minutes.

Self-discipline.
Self-discipline.
Self-discipline.
Self-discipline.
Self-discipline.
Self-discipline.
Self-discipline.
Self-discipline.

That's what it's about. The skill I'm lacking, the thing I need to learn. My life needs to be organized, full of things I'm doing. I need to burn good habits into my brain, so that even on the days I'm dog tired, I'll still be able to finish the things I need to and fall asleep at night feeling good about how much effort I put into my life that day.

Of course, it's much easier said than done.

Tomorrow is Day 1 of Changing My Life Forever. Seriously. See you in the morning.