Chestrina

Pleasure in the Enemy
2002-09-30 01:14:08 (UTC)

Fashion Club...

September 29, 2002

Stab the fashion club! At least Jesi. I'm working with
these girls on a stupid advertisment class project. They
are materials to me, some have shown signs of hope, but
aren't interested in saving themselves. Sometimes I wonder
if I'm the one that needs to be saved... I don't care
anymore, I'm not interested in saving myself either. At
least I have pain, and pain can be good, it keeps you
aware. It ammuses me more than any football game. This is
a crap journal, but live with this passage okay????? I'm
tired, angry, and I just want to cry. I've realized that
I've wasted 17 years of my life, and I have to start from
scratch tomorrow. I have to take this fat ass of mine and
get ready. Ready for what? I have no clue. I just know
that I have to get ready. I feel something is going to
happen, and I wish I knew what I need to expect. It's not
good, but it's not terrible. I need to go burn something
to make myself feel better... Why is the world so fucked
up? Or is it me????? I have been through one shrink, five
counselors, and two mentors and none have been able to
answer my simple question. I have questions, I don't know
what they are, but I'll know the question when I hear the
answer. I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this
makeover crap. And oh god, the fashion club intimidated
me. The barbie's made me jealous. It's crap I tell you
Crap!!! Where do I start? Oh yeah, I start doing a
journal. My mom is really scared for me and what things I
have done in the past to get rid of my depression. Oh, the
reason why i'm typing up this damn journal, is because I
was told to keep a journal, but the last time I did that...
Well I kinda... started writing it in blood... my blood...
It's pretty cool really... but creepy... I guess.... do
you..think... that I... have typed... enough '...'??? But
I guess I'll give this fucking make-over a try. It can't
hurt, can it? Oh wait, that's what my counselor said the
LAST time I tried to write a journal. Well, tie me up and
throw me over the falls in construction tape and feathers.




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