i’ve been online for about an hour — doing anything but writing in my xanga.. avoidal. i guess it’s cause i don’t feel like writing a negative entry..
was this close to doing a private/protected post last night but then realized what’s the point. no one’d see it so what’s the difference between that and just keeping everything in?
then my sister keeps butting into my room with her little pathetic sympathy/”what’s wrong” face cuz she caught me right after i was crying last night and knows i am mad/upset due to the lack of me talking and my throwing her out whenever she steps in the room.
i’m not even sure how i got this way or why but i am certainly all up into the “i don’t care about anything. i don’t need anyone” mood.
i’m mad that i’m not enough for my cousin to care about me like she does for her boyfriend or best friend. i’m mad that me and my sister have nothing to talk about, and although she claims she misses me so much, after a few days of me being here she just wants to go hang with her real friends. i’m mad that i’ve purposely told some of my friends on several occassions about my xanga, but they have probably only glanced at it once, if that. i’m mad that i’m too shy or reserved or whatever that when my godsisters talk about how bad or stupid underaged drinking and cursing and doing drugs is while we were in the car with my parents, i couldn’t speak up and say, “i’ve drank underaged and i curse and i don’t think doing drugs makes a person stupid, it’s just maybe not the best decision for them.” i’m mad that as an adult, i still can’t tell my parents everything and that as an “adult” i still rely on them financially. i’m mad that i’m jealous of my little sister who unconsciously shows me up in everything we do. i’m mad that i truly let the media standard of beauty get to me and allow me to think that i need to be this much thinner and this much taller and this much this or that to be what a woman should be – fuck that! i’m mad that i get so caught up over boys who don’t give me a second thought when growing up, i was NEVER that gurl – i was too fly for that sh*t. i’m mad that i don’t know what i’m doing with my life. i’m mad that i don’t write – not that i can’t write, but i don’t and i won’t and i’m so fucking scared to take risks. i’m mad at that. i’m mad that i’ve let love just pass me by because of who knows what. i’m mad i once thought forever meant forever, and i’m mad that my faith in love wavers with every other season. i’m mad that my family is so proud of me because of my scholastic performance when most the time i hate the idea of school and grades and bs through things, because i want more than this. i’m mad at the fact that i’m mad… because i should be happy.
most of all… i just wish i had someone in my life that understands me. who sees me as the love that i am WITH, not despite, my dysfunctions.
so i’m mad because i miss that.