fuck tha weatherman

There's a sea of time between now and anything I have to look forward to.

Life right now feels a lot emptier than it has in a while. I haven't had REAL EXCITING LAUGHTER-INDUCING FUN in what seems like years.
I know why her writing's not any good: she's never suffered. Not once. She hasn't lost best friends or struggled with her identity. She hasn't felt everything around her change and shift. She hasn't experienced anything meaningful.
I popped a pimple, and it shot onto the mirror.
I think I have things to say worth saying. I just can't find anyone who wants to hear.

Right now, I'm thinking about reading literature from a different country every two weeks.
SPAIN: Jose Saramago, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
RUSSIA: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
FRANCE: Arthur Rimbaud
Fuck, they're all men, and I've dedicated myself to this woman-only life. But Jose Saramago is brilliant! Women's music is better than I imagined.

I feel like I have twenty things, maybe, but this is the wrong blog for writing about such trivial interpersonal problems. Everything feels fucking out of place, like it shifted one position over, but it's upside down in a way that I don't know how to put it back. And I can't be PMSing, which makes it worse. I don't know what to blame this fucking unhappiness on if it's not hormones. I feel like I'm trapping myself in isolation. In fact, I know I am, because all I want is some damned company.

I'm fucking lonely. I feel bored and restless and useless and used up and tired and lonely. I'm discontented and melancholy and all the things I shouldn't have to be, now that AP tests are over and all my stress should be gone.

Why can't I put myself in better relationships? As soon as one of them starts to work out, I fuck it up by trying to make them jealous, or ignoring them. I shouldn't have to fight against myself to be happy. ALL parts of my being should be going toward better relationships and less negativity. I keep feeling like I'm finally on track, I've finally realized what's been wrong all along. But I keep falling off and finding the way back to despair again. I'm so tired of this worn-out pattern of manipulation and jealousy. I'm so tired of making choices I know will piss me off. I'm so tired of being me, this unpleasable, unplacatable person who tricks herself into believing she doesn't have a choice.