Monday, December 13, 2010

20 pack of lies

Let me begin by saying that this has been a long weekend. I went from feeling horrible, to feeling great, back to horrible, confused scared and more confused. I had been excited to go down south this weekend to see my brother and his twin boys for their birthday party. Well already on Friday I had a blow out with my mother. Yeah it’s not the first one and it won’t be the last one either. The funny thing is, it was all about a pack of cigarettes.

While I was getting cramps and breathing coffee at my English final my mother found a pack of cigarettes that was in my purse under my bed (she likes to look though my room when I’m out). What followed is all very high school, I came home got yelled and bitched at, she cried etc, you all get the picture. Except I’m not in high school, I’m 19. I didn’t break any laws. And normally I wouldn’t be so upset about this; I mean I get in trouble for putting the wrong sock on. But I’d just had a crappy week, and some of the things that were said were pretty hurtful. All because I had a few cigarettes at a party almost 3 months ago. I won’t be going into everything that was said, but I’ll sum up

First, how could I do something like this to them, after everything that’s been given to me. What I’ve done is unforgivable. I can never be trusted again. I’ll never get a dime from them again. She also threatened to kick me out. If that happens I’ll have to drop out of school again and get a full time job. I’ve also destroyed my father because he had never imagined that I could do something like this. He won’t be able to talk about it for a while, and he’ll never get over this or look at me the same way again. Keep in mind that he has smoked for most of his life (quit some years ago). This are all her words, not mine. And after hearing all of this and more I couldn’t even open my mouth before she cried, yelled and started over again. What I have to say doesn’t really matter. 

After we have these fights, she always goes back to pretending everything is fine and I’m never allowed to speak up, just listen. So during the weekend she has been on my back all day blaming me for everything from spilled milk to rush hour traffic. It has been exhausting and today I was finally able to get my mind of it, had no intentions of even blogging about it. But the crying and the bitching started again a few hours ago. Am I really supposed to feel that guilty?

Although I think that what I did wasn’t that bad, no matter how bad it was or wasn’t. People do make mistakes, we can’t always be perfect. But just tell me that I’m wrong and I will listen. But saying that I am a horrible daughter and unforgivable just makes me wanna go out and do worse. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.
This has been long, and written kinda fast. So it will be filled with typos and lack of structure. But I just needed to vent. I’m still scared about school, if I have to drop out or not, but we’ll see where this goes.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Doll Face

Tonight I won’t be quoting any great writers or give any words of wisdom. Tonight the only thoughts in my head are the ones I have on my own and can’t get rid of no matter how hard I tried. As I’ve mentioned before, right now I’m living a plastic life behind an ugly mask. All these are driving me mad and I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

Today I woke up at five thirty having to force myself out of bed, but seeing as I’ve already missed classes two days this week and my attendance is six feet under so staying in bed wasn’t really an option.  A good thing to since my law 101 final was today, which turned out to be surprisingly not so hard considering I couldn’t get my mind to concentrate enough to read two pages last night. But here’s the thing about skipping classes. Once you skip one, it leads to two which then leads to three and before you know it you’ve been in bed listening to your own breathing for a week, pathetic I know. And then once you decide to come back you start to panic, will people ask questions on why you were gone, will professors look down on you, do people talk about you behind your back or stare at you when you walk across campus. And how do you excuse your absence. Don’t forget all the work you have to catch up on because your little hiatus. Eventually you get so sick to your stomach that just the thought of stepping foot in a lecture hall makes you fall face down on the ground and you end up taking another day off.

That’s where I am today; I’ve missed two days which isn’t that bad. I did go today but I only had one class. I have two chapters to read and an assignment for political science but my mind focus on anything other than having to walk in those doors less than twelve hours from now. Since getting home today I’ve panicked, cried, shouted, you name it. It’s an ongoing fight with my head and I’m losing. But then someone enters the room and it’s time to put a smile on that doll face like your Mary Poppins on crack. I bite my lip and wait for the second I can lock myself up in my room and stay in my humble isolation. This can be a good thing, but also bad. Once my body knows it doesn’t have to keep things in all the thoughts and tears come back quicker than you can wish it gone. I forget all about my assignments, where I am or what time it is. Then a shooting pain comes in my chest and I lie down and sometimes cry. After that I feeling of numbness arrive and take over until I’m frozen with this emptiness where I lose complete touch with reality. This can last anywhere from ten minutes to an hour or two.

Once I snap out of I feel tired enough to sleep for a year and all the emotions come back. Sometimes I try to get my work done, other times I don’t even bother. It always ends up the same anyway, I never get it done, I just sit quietly keeping myself company while my thoughts float out before me. Once it’s late enough I get ready for bed and toss around for hours before I fall asleep. But to be honest, I don’t want to fall asleep a minute faster. In fact, I use all my energy to stay up as long as I can, because once I close my eyes it’s decided. I have to wake up again.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Square One

“I start to feel like I can’t maintain the facade any longer, that I may just start to show through. And I wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe something about how stupid my whole life is. I don’t know. Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?... I don’t know the answer, I know only that I can’t. I don't want any more vicissitudes, I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.” – Elizabeth Wurtzel

I like this quote, because it pretty much explains where I am in my life at the moment. I’m back in school and pushing this doll face counting down the days until Christmas break. But it’s only a matter of time before I screw it all over again. Knowing the events of last year might make this easier to understand, but it’s not really something I can put in one paragraph, so I might make an entry about it later. 

To stay on topic, I am almost done with finals but my attendance has gotten really bad. I’ve now lasted one month longer than last year but I honestly feel like a ticking bomb waiting to spiral down again. I’m so sick of the fake pretences, and the how great this year was gonna be statements. I did was I was supposed to. I enrolled back in school, I’m taking extra classes to make up, I volunteer. But who am I kidding. I look back at myself and I am right where I was a year ago. The feelings haven’t gone away, the days are not better and performance at school is still going down. The only thing that’s different is that this time nobody knows. At my old school I was contacted by the councilor with concerns and I was made to get help. But I refused and ended up dropping out and od’ing, which is a whole other story.

Here nobody knows, nobody asks. It’s easier in a way, I don’t have to make up answers or worry about what to say when I open up. The only one that bothers me with concerns is my best friend, but she’s away at school across the country. So now, it’s pretty plain how my days go. Even if I am screwing up my academic career, I am stuck where I am at the moment. No motivation, no interest, no hope and no feelings. But as a friend of mine said once, you gotta fake til you make it! I’m not sure how long I’m gonna make it at this point.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Congradulations, it's a C?

 Today I had an interesting talk with my lit professor regarding my recent lit final. She informed me that apparently I’m a wonderful writer and bring so much to the table. She wanted to give me an A on the paper but, couldn’t? Instead I got a C
Here is what I don’t get. If a papers is bad, you say so and show it with a poorly grade, which I got. But if it’s good then show it with a good grade. No, my paper was beautiful example of a realistic short story set in modern context. But the theme was a little taboo and this is a college lit class, and we have to keep it in the naturalism and what not.

Idk, I’m rambling tonight and I’m tired. I just can’t stop obsessing over it. I’ve always been good at lit and English. Those are my strong sides when it comes to school, and now this. I’m sorry, but telling someone they’re a great writer doesn’t sound that convincing after you give them a C. 

Anyways, I’m moving over to my books now. It’s all naturalism tonight, and maybe I can try do get a do over? It’s a long shot, but I have to try. Maybe I’ll read a little Ibsen or Skram, you never know where you’ll get that inspiration from.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

The other Notebook

So, my old campus councilor told me to write down what I feel on a piece of paper. Back then I was more interested in dropping out of school and spending my days inside four walls listening to my own breathing sound. But now I’m back in school, finals are almost over and I’m still here. So, I’m talking to you, the interwebz.

We all have two stories, I truly believe that. There’s the story you show the world, your friends and your parents. This can include things like your dog’s name, your plans for the future or when your sisters birthday is, in other words the superficial cloth we all wear. Off course some wear a thicker cloth than others and I’m not saying that everybody lives a plastic lie, I’m not that cynical. But everybody has something underneath they don’t want the rest of the world to see. Two stories, two diaries. Or as I like to call it, two notebooks.

My pretty notebook is a white hard-covered book with pink and white swirls on that I got for Christmas some years ago. This is the one I write drafts in for assignments, sketches for when a friend wants me to draw her a tattoo or paint her a picture. Heck, I even think it has old supply lists and food recopies and to do lists. The other notebook is a worn out one covered in markers and cut outs of pictures and quotes. Inside there is no order or system. I write what I feel, when I feel like it. It features random stuff like my monthly reading list, what to do before I die, why college might not be for me and well all the disturbed personal crap of a daily doll face life. But it’s after midnight, I’ve had a few glasses of the finest cheap wine (red, although I must say I prefer white), and I’m ready to show my other notebook to the world wide web. After that, who knows? Maybe I’ll get some fancy education and publish my own book like Elizabeth Wurtzel. Yeah that sounded stupid in my head to. But I’ll see where this takes me, I mean everybody else is doing it, right? As for now, I am signing off in hopes of sleeping within the next hour or two.