LustingforNightmares

tumbleweed
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2016-02-20 22:23:38 (UTC)

Blue Like Water


"German Motor Car" by Margot & the Nuclear So and So's

Well, it sure felt nice being ripped apart
In that junked out german motor car
...
So I will sit right down and stare at the wall
And pray that you are nothing like your photo at all


February 20, 2016 Saturday 11:04 PM

Man. I was actually in a good mood. A precarious type of good mood, but a good mood nonetheless. I wrote a whole entry and then it got deleted. There's an autosave, yeah, but I accidentally hit a couple keys and the whole draft was deleted. I'm really frustrated because that entry was full of a lot of stuff that I really needed to talk about and now it's just gone. It takes a surprising amount of energy to focus on those bits of my mind and put them down on... well, not paper, but you know. It's just exhausting when it's supposed to be therapeutic (which it is, if it's not deleted).

Writing isn't enough for me, I suppose. I'm comforted knowing that my words are out there somewhere, that they won't go completely unheard. Sigh. I guess I'll summarize, but it won't feel as good. Not at all.


(Edit: I did not summarize. Jesus Christ.)

---

Here's some anxieties first.

1. Have an interview/visit with the people from that science program I applied to. Am about 99.9% sure my interview will suck. I'm not even sure this program is what I want to do. Sometimes I'm like, "hell yeah!" and other times I worry I'm too lazy for it, not smart enough.

I feel like that'll show in the interview. Plus, I'm not good at speaking. I've told you about how I'm all delayed and shit, right? People will ask me questions and it will take me a good five seconds to respond because I needed realize they just spoke to me, replay their words in my head, glean meaning from them, and formulate a response. A panicked response because I know I've been quiet for too long. I am imagining my interview being sort of like this:

"So why do you think you're right for this program?"

"Erm... I... like science."

My dad says that's good enough. Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit. That's right, his comment is so utterly wrong that it required not only a swear word but a swear word split in half by yet another swear word.

They don't want to know that I LIKE science, they want to fucking know WHY. Probably. Assuming this is a question they will ask, which they probably will. Then again, that was a question that was addressed in the application essays, so maybe (hopefully) not. But just to be safe.

"Why do you think you're right for this program?"

"Science fascinates me. I'm pretty much always asking questions, asking how the world works, asking how PEOPLE work. Science helps me understand all that."

That kind of sucks too. It's true for the most part except I don't think I'm always asking questions. It's not like I ask... um... why pond water is greenish-brown. That was a bad example. But yeah, most questions I ask I think are related to human beings. I like psychology, I like it a lot. But I think I like writing more, probably like art more, and I love English. I love reading (except when that reading is like... super dry. I know there are some people out there who will read just about anything but no. I can only wish I was like that).

Agh! Point is: ahhgg! What's the point?!??!?!


2. Feel sort of stupid. Like, really stupid. And ugly. And fat and shit. It's weird. Came outta nowhere. Wish it would go away. I think the stupidity bothers me more than anything else.

I really, really feel dumb. An absolute idiot. Yes. That's me. No it's not, I'm perfectly fine. I may not be genius material, I may not even be close, but my brain is average. Intelligence-wise at least. Dunno how average my emotional chemistry is. Is that a thing? Is emotional chemistry... a thing?!


3. Frustrated, because two months ago several people promised to help me figure out my future and then they didn't and here I am just as confused and twice as anxious as before. Plus, I'm jealous of Liv because she has people who are guiding her, and she's fucking studying for the SAT's at fifteen years old!!!!

God, I hate adults, I hate them so fucking much (no I don't, I'm just being bitter, hold on. It'll go away in like... ten sentences, hopefully less, more if you're unlucky).

It's like when you're a kid they're all, "Muuiuuhhh yew gotta learn 2 do dis and dat becuz in high skool, teachers don't take yaw shit" so you get freaked out (if you're me, that is) and you follow directions because oh no! You don't want to be a poor failure!

And then in middle school, it's the same damn song (only I wasn't listening at that point, but does that need to be rehashed? no, shut up).

High school is... worse. Talk about mixed signals. Teachers say, "do ur homework" and that's about it. They say you can totally handle being independent (fucking liars!!! I'm so angry I can't even speak-type).

Then, other people are all, "Ah, don't worry about college, wait til your junior year"

But now it's junior year and what the fuck am I supposed to do? Everyone kept telling me what was and wasn't important for college, I only half-listened, but I do know for a fact that most of what they said is kind of useless to me at this moment. I hate them for this.

I was a kid. Don't I get to blame someone? Why was I always the one cautioning myself? Always learning how to be an adult?

I feel like somewhere along the way, someone fucked up. Someone might have been me. What I mean is this:

I tried so hard to be grown up. In a way, I think that sort of just preserved the child in me. I'm a fucking brat, a whiny one. Deep down, I am... so angry. It runs so deep. I don't think I can even begin to describe it.

Teen angst, perhaps? That's always looked down upon, but maybe we have a good reason to be so mad. It's not like being forced into adulthood is a great experience.

Ugh. Back to one of the many points I've been trying to make along the way. Preserving the child in me. I tried to repress it, I guess? Tried to act in the way I thought was appropriate? Tried to be perfectly predictable. Totally let that idea go when I was in 7th and 8th grade but then I relearned the skill so I would stop hurting people and myself. It's slow-going. Still learning.

Yeah, well. Child-me has not yet been snuffed out. She's fucking annoying, I hope you know that.

I just want to blame someone. Blame everyone. This makes things hard, because I pretty much always want to blame the rest of the world. As a result, I end up adopting all that blame, even when part of me doesn't really believe it's my fault (bitterness is born from this).

Yeah, well.

Guess it's pointless... I'm stuck. I have no idea what to do, where to go, who to ask for help. I just want... I don't know what I want.

I guess the smallest favor I could ask would be for my parents to maybe sign me up for SAT prep or something. Liv's in that. In my worse moments, I hate her because of this (among other things – that sounds bad but mostly it has to do with academic jealousy okay). Hate is funny, though. It's so ephemeral. Like when you first strike a match, how it flares up and how it dies out so quickly, turns into something less dangerous.

Love can be like that too. I like to pretend that love is as much a decision as it is a feeling, though. Even when I don't love Liv, I love her (contradictory but absolutely true). Love is much easier than hate...

Dunno why people ever say otherwise. It's so easy to excuse other people for their behavior, so easy to tell yourself, "Hey. I don't know so-and-so's situation. Who am I to judge?" For one thing, it inspires a sort of awesome (if unwarranted) smugness. You're like, "HAH. Look at all these people, consumed by their hatefulness! And here I am, feeling little to no animosity towards my fellow human beings! Oh, how wise I am!"

For another... I forgot. There was something else, though, I promise.

ANYWAY: in conclusion, I'd like to say I'm bitter as fucking fuck.

Adults have been confusing me all my life and now I am... well, confused. Yeah. Ugh. Plus, I feel super guilty for even beginning to blame them??? Because how do I really know it's their fault?

And is blame even something I should be focusing on? No! Fuck no! I know that! I've known that for years, ever since my dad starting sing-songing (in an annoying nasally voice) "don't play the blame game!" whenever he did something kind of wrong.

Still... I want to play the god damn blame game. Because if I don't I'll just be even angrier. And because I wanna find whose responsible, wanna make like a suburban soccer mom and give them a piece of my mind.

Want them to say they're sorry. Want them to tell me it ISN'T my fault, because I'm starting to really feel like it is... Maybe they can tuck me in, too. Give me some hot soup and a glass of water, set me up in a dark room next to my childhood best friend (this would be Jacob) and we'd take an innocent nap together, whispering ghost stories while staring at the darkness in his closet.

Give me back my time. Give me back my childhood. I lost it. I threw it away. I know you didn't mean that, when you told us to grow up and start thinking about our futures. I know I took it too far. But how was I supposed to know any different? Kids run away with things. I still run away with things and I'm barely a child now. Not in the ways that count, anyway.

(Hey, remember how about, hmm, about twenty, twenty two paragraphs ago, I said that my bitterness-towards-adult-rant would end in approximately ten sentences? Hah. Hahahah. HAHAHhahahahahahaa. Fuck me.)


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