LustingforNightmares

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Ezoic
2016-07-21 23:57:04 (UTC)

Family is Such Work


"A Comet Appears" by The Shins [I think it's been like 2 years but this song still holds a special place in my brain]

They shone a chlorine light on,
A host of individual sins,
Let's carve my aging face off,
Fetch us a knife,
Start with my eyes,
Down so the lines,
Form a grimacing smile


July 21, 2016 Thursday 11:58 PM


I wrote something for Creative Writing and I'm scared. I value Mr. Rayes' opinion a lot and this one thing I've written is weirdly personal. I didn't mean for it to be. I like writing fiction, honestly–

(although I guess it's not that different from my regular diary writing, except that it's a little grosser. What I mean by that is I tend to focus more on imagery than I do in here because who really describes that shit in real life? Me. I do. To myself. Not in here, though. This here is about me and the people I experience and I want to peel them apart so. Yes. Wait. What was I saying? It's grosser. It can be kind of... pretentious-sounding sometimes, but I try to avoid that. I think most people do, though... I have by now confused myself and probably you too.)

Um. Okay, I like writing fiction, but this particular bit of writing came out more autobiographical than I had intended???

I still treated it like someone else's life, but I was vaguely aware that all the mental images were of my home. And plus, the changes I made to this fake person's life were so half-assed and lame.

I changed my sister's gender to male and I changed my name, which was only used once anyway, to Sarah (that's s'posed to be a placeholder. Generally, I suck at names though).

So. Yeah. Pretty lame. Also, I didn't write my mom with an accent, but that's kind of hard to do. Mostly, my mom's sentences are grammatically correct, she just has that.. tell-tale hispanic-y twist to it all. Like, you can tell immediately it's not her first language, but she speaks very well. It doesn't translate.

God DAMN it! I keep following my thoughts. Which I always do. It's been five minutes. HOW have I managed to turn a simple thought into an entire page? Christ. I guess that's not a huge problem. It's just, I'm sort of lost. I can't remember where I was in my brain.

Oh! Okay. Yeah, so. I'm a little scared of what Mr. Rayes'll say. He doesn't grade out creative pieces, but he does make little notes and all that. I worry. He's, like. A real life author, an actual professional who has made actual shitloads off his writing. So. Scary.

Also, he's a cool guy with very, very white hair. I was staring at his hair yesterday. So pure. I hope that when I go gray, I actually go white. I mean, gray is probably what'll happen and it won't be the worst but white looks like an elf. Yes, I'm thinking about Lord of the Rings.

This is an on-the-fly decision but: I think I'll let myself go gray when I get older.

When I was little, I watched an episode of the Simpsons where Marge went gray and everyone thought she aged like ten years. In that moment, I promised myself that I'd dye my hair until I was too old to care.

(old people, I feel, have grown to a place past their bodies – which is weird, but also cool. Sometimes sad, if they're the grumpy kind of oldies who "let themselves go." What am I talking about?)

I have just now decided that I'm not going to do that. So I can look like a metal-haired goddess.

Although my face-body will probably have wilted by then. Hmmm.

If I go gray at like thirty (my family has a history of early... graying???) I'll probably dye my hair though. Depending. Dunno.

GAH. The point. Well. Sort of.

The thing I wrote ended up being about my mom. Originally, it was about something else, but y'know. Things happen.

Basically, it's about her depression and all that. I keep telling her to get counseling but she just keeps forgetting.

And then she'll yell at dad for, like, twitching his facial muscles ("That's just my face!" is something he's said to defend himself in the past), and be angry because our house is a shit hole, which it isn't. It's just cluttered.

Anyway, turns out it really bothers me. Once again, this is something I didn't realize I thought about so much, but yes.

I don't know. My momma needs help, I think. She seems so unhappy all the time. I dunno what to do.

---

I had a dream Liv and I were playing these weird instruments. They looked like organs with microphones coming down from the ceiling – weird – and we played them by... singing? It sounded like whale songs. It was kind of really cool.

Also, Music was there. That part was SUPER weird. I, like, fell back into his arms and he was complimenting me a lot. Mostly on my appearance. It was nice, and I was letting him do it, which – why? Because even in the dream, letting all that happen plus the physical touches felt wrong.

It probably has to do with Adrian, honestly. Although I don't know why my brain would bother conjuring a dream on this subject. Yes, I've already been over all of this. He likes me and maybe sometimes I exploit that by accident.

I don't think I exploit him very often. It's just when he compliments me and, like, I let it happen, I just feel sorta guilty. Like he's not seeing me right, but it's nice to hear anyway so I don't stop him. I should though, shouldn't I?

I don't know. Like always, I won't take any action until I'm sure of something. Which, yeah. I probs wont be.

My aunt should be here soon.

And we're going on vacation in a couple days.

Hippie Aunt, if you were wondering.

I'm not exactly looking forward to that, if I'm honest, but whatever. I'll also be seeing my grandparents. People who are family, I guess. So.... Okay. I should just channel Liv best I can. So I can really, really love these people the way I should.

But like I've said. I'm not very good at love. Not very good at the whole affection thing. So... We'll see how this turns out. Probably okay.

---

Okay. I have HW to finish so byes.


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