8/23/06

soo.another bad day. i’ve been fighting pretty much all day with my mom about college. I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to live with random people, I don’t want to be away from home when I’m sick. I don’t want to leave my dogs, I don’t want to leave my bro. I don’t want to leave my friends. 

Iseriously want to punch something. I’m having a seriously hard time thinking about leaving. I really really don’t want to and my parents aren’t really understanding. my dad is yacking about how change is good and how I can’t live at home for the rest of my life, I said I don’t want to live at home but I don’t want to live with random people that i’ve never meet especially when i’m prone to feeling ill. my mom says if i’m not all excited and woohoo to pack then i’m not allowed to do anything with my friends for the next three days which is a problem cuz we have a sleep over planned for tomorrow. which i’m not even too sure if i want to go to it because everyone likes one person and i feel akwardly in the middle and feel sometimes its best if i’m left out. also one of the people who was going to sleep over no longer can and i’m real bummed because i wanted to hang with him before I leave. ugh can i just stay here and pretend i’m not any older and that i still can break the law and not get into too much trouble and that i can defend myself against people and not get punished because i’m a minor. what one year does to you. it makes you grow up damnit. Can’t I be sixteen again, goatcarting in Germany with the face masks on and the fumes in the air and the booze in the hand. But not 13, don’t want to be slapped infront of my friend again. 9, no, too much crying. 15, no, too much fighting. 6, no, too much family drama. 12, no, too many military boot camps keeping my dad away.

maybe i’m just a messed up kid, who knows. maybe i’m supposed to be scared of everything and live in an egg shell and forget about all my crazy dreams and just play it safe for the rest of my life. hell, who else do you know writing notes about how the world would be better without me, when I was in the 3rd grade!   maybe i’m too unstable. maybe I need more pills. maybe a drink or two. maybe a guy. maybe a gun. maybe a car. maybe i’m too jacked to be sane, maybe God meant me to be one of the crazy one’s with anger managment problems who breaks full sets of dishes and punches ceilings and trashs paint everywhere and kicks things and has a hard time refraining themselves from punching the shit out of some people and who is so unstable that a reply to "what’s the put put place?" is "um a place where people play put put" makes the want to cry

i hold too much inside the stupidest things can set me off, and i’ll cry or i’ll scream or i’ll throw something or punch something and try to withhold tears and try not to freak and try not to loose control and try to be normal

God only knows if i’ll ever see normal. i’m too screwey in the head. too much desire to cry. to hit. to release ager any way

if life were just a movie, everything would work out fine.. but life’s not a movie and nothings fine.