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2005-04-16 03:11:11 (UTC)


Just like to say, I'm an empty person. Everything is made
up. I'm not sure what my personality is. Sure, I often say
the first thing that comes to mind, but it's screened. It's
all screened. I act. Sometimes I'm not even there. I change
my mind. I dislike much, but like... not much. My feelings
are calculated in layers. I don't know if I'm complex, or
not even a real person at all.
Today we watched a movie in math class. My defenses were
temporarily down. I was absorbed. I methodically ate my
popcorn, drank my Spite [sic], rolled the napkin into sushi,
ate the ice, and met Bob Harrigan the seashell. Screw you,
reality. I don't know what you are, but you scare me.
Especially Tito. Now I understand why I kept my imagination
for so long.
Lauren was absent. Johnston was still absent. There was a
crumpled ball of paper in a desk.
Sleeping is a good way to pass time. Once I finally fall
asleep I have dreams that should be nightmares, but I never
wake up screaming. Sometimes slightly bewildered... it's
better than being around people. I still prefer being awake.
I'm freer in dreams.
Regular people are taxing. I've decided: weird grumpy
cheerful, caring, energetic. In other words, French next
year should be less awkward for me, if things can work as such.
I, for the time being at least (hopefully longer), no longer
have to work.
Still, life is NOT good, whatever teacher's room and car
those are. I refuse to admit that sort of thing. It's
conditional, see. I'm typically not "sad," just
discontented. Sad is a ridiculous word. Happy is worse. I
couldn't say it without a wince or a "competition" grimace.

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