October 20, 2002
Stupid Stupid Stupid
I'm so fucking stupid I can't hardly live with myself. This doesn't mean I have low self esteem or don't like the quirky Jill that I am. It just means I'm annoying as shit.
My body is a mutinous bitch and I'm about to cut her off. Me and my mind can survive on Sprite and crackers. If she ever wants to see a bowl of pasta or some tasty chocolate ever again, she better get her ass in gear and leak like there is no tomorrow.
I am not pulling that twenty days late maddening bullshit again. I'm not pregnant. Obviously.
Still I worry that I am.
Which is why I am going to ride the shuttle to Kroger's tomorrow and fucking waste money on a pregnancy test. I'm one day late but stressed as all hell. Could have something to do with school/parents/finances/boyfriend, or all four, if I'm feeling dangerous.
I know what you're all thinking. And no, not even this time do I have reason to worry. Don't make me go into the particulars of it. It's just not possible.
Highly unlikely.
Dammit.
You know, I would like to just not have a uterus. Really, it would be most comforting. If there was any sort of reasonably priced surgery I would probably get it. That's how much I don't want to get pregnant.
Why, then, am I having sex?
That fucking love bullshit.
So. Friday night. Second trials proved to be infinitely better and tender and communicative and lovely. That's all I want to say about it.
I shrank a cute wool sweater today. Obviously the delicate cycle on the dryer is exactly like the standard colors or whites cycle, only with a fancy button. How nice.
Maybe my seven year old cousin would like a gray cardigan. She could wear it with the Avril Lavigne-esque tie and wrist bands I'm going to get her for Christmas.
I need to do my Spanish homework. You have no idea how difficult such a thing is when one is so fixated on irrationalities.
God, body, cooperate!
Would I get an abortion? I hope I never have to make that decision. I probably wouldn't. But I might just kill myself. Or think very strongly about it.
I have an anxiety disorder, amongst other things.
Mike wouldn't marry me, you see. And I don't think I'd want him to. I just don't want a kid. I don't want to be pregnant. I don't want to be pregnant. I don't want to be pregnant.
Anyone listening?
Tomorrow I am going to stay the night at Mike's house and ask him to sing me to sleep.
astera at 11:26 p.m.