I just can’t study. I just don’t want to touch my calc book. Ugh, I’m gonna fail that test.
Alright:
Mando
History
Calc
Bio
Those four things. WORK ON THEM. Later…
So…yeah, hopefully bio works out okay. I should buy a book or something.
I do all of this stupid shit and it just makes me feel worse on the inside. I’m such a hypocrite. I know I am and that’s the worse part. Please, just let me go.
He just broke my heart and it hurt. I don’t even get why it’s broken because he still ‘loves’ me. It just feels so weird now. I would have liked it so much better if he just said nothing.
Rephrase, it really fucking hurt. I end up weeping a lot…
I’ll do after 12, if he comes back after 12 that is.
I’m just…annoyed. Seriously. What the hell is with this shit…
I don’t want platonic love, or a little above platonic love. He doesn’t even love. He just wants me to be there for him, to hold his hand and be cute and cuddle and comfort him and listen to him and care about him. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want any of that either, but there’s a flipside of the coin, MY damn side of the coin. What, did I imagine all of this shit? I thought he really loved me. REALLY. Like…what the fuck kind of people do I end up with? Why do I always, always always pick the retarded, fucked, weird ones? How do you think those wives feel when they find out their husband is gay? What kind of shit is that? Even Rosa gets Joe back at the end, so what about me?
He won’t ever look at me romantically? Why the fuck didn’t he bother pointing out before we started dating? Before it got serious and he shoved his penis in me? Did it not occur to him, EVER, that…that…FUCK ALL OF YOU. FUCK FUCK FUYCK FUCK.
I hate this shit so much. Why…
The more I look at this crap, the more I hate it. He doesn’t want me to hate him, but how can I not?
Clearly, we are incompatible. This is what I told him. This is what I said. And he said, no, no, it’ll work out. WORK OUT HOW?! LIKE THIS! THIS IS GREAT! I FEEL LIKE SUCH SHIT ABOUT MYSELF I WANT TO TEAR MY GUTS OUT.
And where is…he has class and I have break. I want to go see him. And to hug him and kiss him and sleep with him and he doesn’t want any of that from me.
I quit. I really just want to quit.
Life just annoys me. I can’t do anything right. I can’t get into college. I can’t loose weight. You feel inferior? I make you feel inferior? I laugh at the comment.
She doesn’t remember a thing. Maybe it’s better that way. She doesn’t really care. Her movements are quick and lifeless. She kills people like Mozart composes music, like Louis Armstrong plays the trumpet. It’s a god given talent.
So, yeah, bored, have to leave for Flushing, soon. Need to find out if there is bio test. Goddamnit if we have one.
No one knows if we have a test or not, but I know that I’m retarded. Well, at least I can get to be an officer. I’m trying not be upset about this. It’s difficult. Okay, yeah, I have a lower IQ than Jeffrey. Lol, what does this mean? Actually, I’m just sorta pissed my IQ is low in general, I’m clumped together with stenographers and nurses and post graduate students, while he’s considered a genius and a possible Nobel prize winner. Maybe I’m just slow. Profound mental retardation.
I have no profound abilities. I can’t draw. I can’t write. I can’t even score high enough on a fucking IQ test. And you feel bad for yourself because you don’t have friends? God. The grass is always greener on the other side.
I am scared of a lot of things, like applying to colleges and getting my SAT scores back, like
You wake up morning, like every morning, only to ask yourself: why am I awake? Why did I even bother waking up? There’s nothing, save for school, which compels you to wake. Not the crowds trying to push into the subway, not your mother and her coffee grinder and morning news, not even yourself, because you know you want to go back to sleep. So, why do it?
It’s hard to write about things I believe in, mostly because I don’t really believe in anything. I’ve already written two of these and a third one is just difficult.
I am waiting on the corner of Lafayette and 8th Street. I gaze east because I know he’s coming from St. Mark’s. I am carrying a bag of Sun Chips from the Walgreens and a bottle of ice tea.
He waves at me from across the street, awkwardly, and I see the oil stains on the brown paper bag he has in the other hand.
“Why did you buy more food?” He asks, exasperated.
“I felt like Sun Chips.” I shrug and give him a helpless look. It’s hard to say no to Sun Chips.
He shakes his head, awkwardly. His mother always wants to cut his hair, which, I think, is just ridiculous because her haircuts make him look like a pineapple.
We walk down the street together, towards my house, to give my mother her friend fries. My mother, on the other hand, always wants him to run errands for her. Jeffrey, go buy some McDonalds. Jeffrey, go buy some Duraflame logs. Jeffrey, go buy some fries from that place on St. Mark’s.
And, he never objects. Okay, he says and waddles out of the house to get some logs, or fries, or McDonalds. Sometimes I think that saying no to any of my mother’s silly requests would be just too awkward for him.
My boyfriend is an awkward person, but it is all a cute sort of awkward. He likes awkward things, he talks about awkward things, and he does awkward things. Some people find him a little bit creepy, which is entirely understandable because sometimes he is also a little awkwardly creepy. But, then again, if he weren’t, I wouldn’t be in love with him.
I push away the large, uncooperative Venetian blinds and twist open the little knobs that fasten my windows closed. I stick my head out far enough to see the street below. He is waving, ear buds in hand and an awkward smile on his face.
I’m supposed to feel happy for him, I know, but sometimes I just can’t. It’s like your teammates breaking in speech. How are you supposed to really congratulate them when you’ve failed so miserably?
Some days you just feel like shit. I gain weight instead of loosing weight. Everyone is skinny. I don’t get how any one thing can make you feel so much like shit.
He hasn’t been gone for more than an hour and I already miss him. The thought of sleeping in my bed alone frightens me. I am no longer accustomed to this silence. Without his voice over the headset or his presence here next to me, abysmal loneliness overwhelms me. I wonder if he has boarded the train yet, or not. It is nearing three.
I cannot resist the pull of sleep. To enter the world dreams alone, numbed I am from the thought of waking up without him. Will he call me soon?
Watchmen is a powerful story. Can’t stop thinking about it. Talk like Rorschach. Few words. Blunt. Characters memorable. Story convoluted. Worth re-reading.
Sometimes, from the things he says, I’m not sure what I feel for him, pity or sadness. The more I know about him, the more I love him, good or bad, or just plain terrible. All of this little anxiety, all the little things he does to try to remedy his situation, the fact that his life actually has vivid undercurrents, ideals that govern his life. No, not even ideals, just ideas, driving forces behind his actions, intent, something, like a magnet that guides each little iron pellet into curves on paper, that motivate all of his actions, his justifications for everything…is it more like awe? Bewilderment? Astonishment that someone can actually live with purpose, but a purpose so simple and elementary? Something like that…
If you think about it, no one wins. We’re all losing to something, someone. It’s inevitable, it’s just how you end up dealing with the loss and how you earn your next victory.
Omg omg omg omg omg I’m gonna spazz and kill someone. Oh my dear god. That was the most beautiful, most epic chapter I’ve read so far. He’s a god. That’s it, pure and simple. You don’t fuck with gods. I’m gonna ohhhh myyy GOD…
They need to have sex after this. After he calms the fuck down and like, kills envy. They need to kill Envy. Oh god. Oh god….
I actually just can’t quit. I can’t, I can’t, not when it’s so GOOD like this. If I were a crack addict, there would be no hope for me, at all. AT ALL. I’d just…Roy is sex. Roy is agod. ROY IS GOD. I SUPPORT ROY FOR 2010!!!
God. -ly. So….fucking…epic….
Yeah, dude, like…..royai is just around the corner. It’s so fucking close I can smell that shit with my hands. That sentence made no sense. But oh jesus Christ. I’m going to spazz, die, have a heart attack. Royai Royaaiiiiiiiiii I love everything!! Oooh, god.
Well, I’m really hoping Envy dies. It’s about FUCKING time. I mean, how AWESOME is Roy? Like, seriously. He pwned two homunculus. Like THAT. Snap snap die bitch. How good is this shiiittt?!?!?
I’d devote the rest of my life to this man if it were possible. I’d dress Jeffrey up like Roy and just fuck him.
If he ever finds out how obsessed I am with Roy, it’s going to hurt him like crazy. But good god, Roy’s like sex. Seriously.
Granted, I’m dead scared of that look in his eyes. I hope he calms down. I’m so scared and so excited. Another month. Holy crap.
Royai is so good, I’m going to cry. They need to come out with this shit faster. When this series is done, I’m going to buy every single volume and carry it home, in like five different languages too. Oh god.