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Wednesday, October 10th, 2001
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12:53 pm
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Perhaps I've disappeared in the back of your minds.. that one, the end, the fall, and those other nonsensical ways to express what I've become.
I haven't been home in days, the scars are still there, and everyday I crave something, perhaps a gun. It sounds morbid, doesn't it? It is. Everything is morbid. My home was morbid and vile, and everyday I seem to think about it and cry. Sleeping underneath bridges and on matresses in friends houses, occasionally crashing at my aunt's.
I'm failing, and I feel no comfort in anything around, so how selfish must I be to be so self-concerned. Arguments with children in school over "those fuckin' afghanis" have made me so angry I grab my things and leave class. I sit in the counselor's office completely using them for excuses to not go to class, to get away, and I leave.
I'm at the library now, it's down the street from my high school. I walked in the sun holding back tears and profane thoughts, holding a stolen book in my hand, wishing I would come along someone who would change the world, or my small world which exists in my mind. My subconcious, and tell me of politics and art, music, and their lives. Fall in love with them. Oh wait, I look intimidating and I'm unattractive.
They throw things at me in class, and call me "fag" and "dyke" and other things which do not apply to me, yet the green haired girl is weird and quiet. Let's pick on her.
I've given up on trying to get people to notice me. I used to talk about myself as if I were something worth while. As if I were someone who was almost genius and understood values and people and the French Revolution and post modern art. I'm an ignoramus. I've faded away, and I became what I really am, a nobody. No one is anything, and power corrupts. Like our government. It's all planned.
I start everyday with the mistake of waking up, and getting dressed.
My dad may have cancer, this man who used to get drunk and would kick me in the ribs for spilling a glass of water, the man who I've lived with for 2 years in my childhood, and have proven to be the worst 2 years of my life. The guy who won't even send me 10 bucks. He calls.. Oh, honey, Grace, I love you. I want you to be with me before I get too ill. Just come out here. I'll take care of you, I'll love you. We'll be happy. I'll get you in a good school. You can do your writing, and I'll give you a guitar. Blah blah blah, and a slur of words, which mean so little to me, but hurt at the same time. It switches to "Yer always fucking sad, and it annoys me."
I am confused.
About this country.
Myself.
The American Dream.
My decaying family in need of repair, yet the selfish one can't cope.
I miss a lot of you, which is silly.
I'm mailing Ryan and Shira some things because I adore them in immense amounts.
Smile, it's not that bad.
WORD UP.
current mood: distressed
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(10 comments |comment on this)
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| Wednesday, October 3rd, 2001
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7:27 pm
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7:07 pm
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I lost my cool a long, long time ago.
Sigh, amongst other signs of disappointment.
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Nica is honestly one of the most insane, talented, and amusing angst ridden young girls I have ever met. She charms me with her sketches and stories, and her constant mumbling about politics and conspiracy theories. I can't help but want to go "Aw" when we hang out.
There's this obnoxious, and I mean immensely obnoxious emo boy who has a large "crush" on me. He passes by me and yells mindless things, and tends to randomly force himself into my conversations with others.
Will you be my friend for a dollar?
current mood: my feet are a bit sore
current music: the raincoats- lola
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(7 comments |comment on this)
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6:55 pm
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Some people try to pick up girls, and get called an asshole.
This never happened to Pablo Picasso.
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(1 comment |comment on this)
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| Saturday, September 29th, 2001
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11:46 pm
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11:12 pm
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Walking with the queer boy, and the thirteen year old pink haired dancer. Barely talking, and replying to things with twists of sarcasm and kissing Nica's short curly head with intense squeezes exclaiming how much I adored her.
Last night we saw a boy laying on the sidewalk bleeding profusely, and unconcious. He had been stabbed across the street from our town's only all age venue. Nica stood there, and began to frown. We walked home in silence and breaths, taking the back street, and barely speaking about how terrible people were, including ourselves. Change. Better. End.
Sometimes it gets old. Getting up, and getting dressed, using brands of soap and shampoo which you purchase, pay money for, and getting clothed, going to see people and do things. Socializing with the same people about the same boring things, about cars and music, sports and girls, magazines and politics. The world seems so boring, almost defunct. Almost defunct.
I'm sorry.
current mood: confused
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(9 comments |comment on this)
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| Tuesday, September 25th, 2001
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6:56 pm
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For those of you not on my friends list:
I'm out, for a while.
Too much going on.
Going to repair my small heart.
Be back in 5 minutes, maybe a week. Maybe a month.
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(4 comments |comment on this)
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| Monday, September 24th, 2001
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3:59 pm
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| Sunday, September 23rd, 2001
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9:55 pm
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9:17 pm
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I can still see the dust on my skin.
And the Ajax.
I am still ill. I also decided today that the word ill in cursive is, well, my favorite word to write in cursive.
current mood: exhausted
current music: cockney rejects- fighting in the street
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(3 comments |comment on this)
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12:19 am
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12:18 am
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| Saturday, September 22nd, 2001
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11:23 pm
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Last night Nica and I went to a local show, arrived completely hyper walking at an abnormally fast pace, and we sat in lawn chairs talking about television. A boy who I've had some odd attraction to for a while came up to borrow a chair, then stated how much I disturbed him, and walked away. I made a face, and we left. Sat in the hay, lost the lighter, and came back to sit around near groups of people who knew my name, but won't even take notice of me sitting alone. I feel non-existant, and insipid. Obviously I'm not an approachable person, and this leaves me feeling completely disenchanted that I tend to be rather nice with people, yet they walk all over me. Maybe I'm too nice, or perhaps I'm too critical. Either way, I've obviously got some personality flaws, but so do you. And I'm not going to change to make myself likeable to these teenage idiots (or people still stuck in a teenage mentality) who care about dating and cars and bad music. I'll live with my flaws, selfishly, and continue to watch and always have that weird left-out/something is missing feeling, which is never actually filled. There's always something missing, and maybe at this low point of my sad life, it's that my presence is never really acknowledged.
We made peace flags, or something, and signed a few petitions. A guy called me intense, and we left. I fell off a log, which I was standing on, into the street, and got in the car.
My mother had been drinking. Everything was fine, and I tried not to let it bother me. I was fine with it, actually. We drove around listening to music, and I thought it was fine.. She drove midway into the middle of a busy street, and we were almost hit. "Um, can you just take us home?" Somehow we ended up fighting, and I had taken two hits to the face, and all that could leave my mouth were threats of how I was going to leave.. or how she was no longer my mother, nor I was her daughter. Nica sat in the backseat quiet, and my mother would occasionally find some twisted way to bring her into our argument.
"If you moved, Grace, everyone would be a lot happier."
It rung through my ears, and I started crying. By the time I had gotten home I was a wreck, and we got out of the car. My mother stumbled inside, and Nica just walked up, placed her arms around me, and we held each other in my driveway.
"I'm sorry."
My mother left at about midnight, with my dog, and said she would not be home for a while, because I was "too fucked up". I cried, and panicked, and attempted calling people. Nica sat there eating rice, and watching me attentively, waiting for me to say something to her.
This morning, Nica and I were still a bit tired from staying up so late the night before. We watched the original Parent Trap, and she went home. I slept for hours, and I wish I could've slept for more. My brother and I walked to Benji's, and watched a few episodes of Cowboy Bebop. Then we went to see Ghostworld (which must be the most boring comic in all existance, next to _______) with Benji's friends, who are 9 year old looking college girls. It seems that I'm the only person who didn't like the film. Maybe I wasn't paying too much attention.
There's too much going on in the world, and here I am writing about myself, and what I do, almost as if someone cares. But I think it's a good thing I'm not talking about the economy and war, it's almost as if I don't know enough (infact, I don't think anyone really knows enough about America's current state), and we all know, it's better to listen to someone who knows what they're talking about rather than a simpleton who tries to bundle his or her confusion to have one pathetic conclusion.
current mood: bored
current music: the peechees- do the math
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(8 comments |comment on this)
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| Friday, September 21st, 2001
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4:56 pm
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10:18 am - a rapid succession of knocking, tapping, or cracking sounds
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I am currently experiencing what they call a "Writer's block". Every sentence I write makes my lip curl with disappointment, downward of course.
I'm ill. Stuck home, congested like a motherfucker with excessive mucus. Which all in all sounds disgusting, and is disgustingly boring. The nurse didn't seem to believe I was actually ill, until I had a temperature of 100, and I said I felt defunct. I was sent home yesterday afternoon, and I woke up still feeling like shit.
There's this cowboy who I sit next to in one of my classes, and if he doesn't stop talking to me, honest to god, I will end up killing either him or myself because of his constant obnoxious questions about womankind, as if I'm God or something.
current mood: congested
current music: the peechees- i could have loved you
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(4 comments |comment on this)
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| Wednesday, September 19th, 2001
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6:41 pm
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6:16 pm
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| Monday, September 17th, 2001
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7:11 pm
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6:21 pm
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I got in an argument yesterday with everyone in my household over my current contemplation of getting my GED and moving out.
You're not going to be another one of those GED losers. You have so much more potential than that.
It all seemed to go out my ears, and I sat in the car listening to T. Rex sighing over and over thinking about how terribly bored I am of this dreadful place. I drove over to Nica's and we sat outside the house of the younger boys down her block who have a band, who suprisingly.. aren't that bad.
I realized that I'm just fooling myself, thinking I can pass by on my own. Sometimes I feel as if I'm not even capable of forming a proper sentence or going to sleep. How could I face the "real world" if I cannot even deal with the idiots in an hour and forty-five minute class four times a day?
Nica ditched her first class to walk around with me. We sat on the pavement drinking water and talking about Richard Hell (since she's reading Go Now for her English class), and we'd sing random songs and go back into separate silent stares at the ground.
I'm failing all of my classes, which also included a free set of questions from teachers around school. I've got about 8 or 9 absences in one class, so apparently I am being reported to the principal. I still feel no concern, but I decided I'd go for a while, put somewhat of an effort in.
For the first time in a very, very, very long time I have taken a liking to a boy. Normally the only boys I like are fictional characters in books and films, or people who are deceased, so I guess I am a few steps closer to being normal. He's Evan. He's got brown shaggy hair, and rarely comes to class. He sat by me today, and all we did was work while occasionally slipping in little nervous lines back and forth.
I'm disenchanted with my life. I'm bored. I'm falling asleep, but my eyes are open. They're open and it's gotten to the point where I don't even think about how things really are now.. all I think about is future.. how am I going to get out of here? And who's going to save me?
current mood: apathetic
current music: velvet underground- candy says
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(6 comments |comment on this)
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| Sunday, September 16th, 2001
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1:49 am
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