November 14, 2002
Luftballoons
I've realized that while I love live music, I really do not care for concerts. They're hot. They're loud. There are people everywhere. I find myself thrilled, at first, when the artist comes onstage, but after the second or third song I am starting to wonder how long it will be until the phantom encore. I am dying to look at my watch, but it is in Mike's room next to the radio. I'm starting to feel a little sick, but I keep dancing because I don't want to be one of the people sitting in their seats. There's a whole line of them. Right next to me. The crowd of girls from my dorm that I came in with.
So John Mayer was pretty sweet and while I vowed at the time that I wanted to have his baby, I have now officially reconsidered. I don't want to have anyone's baby.
The only man I'd consider is likely nursing wounded pride. Or really pissed off at me right now.
Do you know what is absolutely maddening? If you're about to start your period, you'll be overly emotional. Your breasts will be tender. You might feel kind of sick. If you're pregnant, you'll be overly emotional. Your breasts will be tender. You might feel kind of sick. If you're on birth control, you'll be overly emotional. Your breasts will be tender. You might feel a little sick.
How the fuck are you supposed to know of which ailment you are suffering? You could, in fact, be suffering from more than one! At once!
I went to bed at a quarter after eleven last night and got up at about nine thirty. Fifty bucks to anyone who says I won't be tired by three.
I had to write Mike an email about my parents. I offended him, or upset him, or pissed him off, or all three. And I can't call him and comfort him, or at least argue my way back into his good graces. I don't even know if I've left them. Maybe my parents have just sunk further down into the pit of his unforgivable anger.
Families are fucked up. You love and care about and respect them, but you still want to lead your own life. But you can't, because you have all these people who feel like you owe them something. I don't want to owe anyone anything. And why should my boyfriend be forced to be nice to them? They don't like eachother. Period. And I'm tired of fucking fighting about it with the both of them.
I love him. I'm willing to follow the rules, and he along with me. But this bullshit of being fake nice shit has got to be abandoned. Do they really want him to just lie? He's not going to do that. And I'm not going to make him. It's not right.
I just don't care anymore. I'm going to have a fucking nervous breakdown over all of this retarded shit. My parents are driving my slowly fucking crazy.
I can't even call him and pour out sentiment at him. He'll still be mad. And I'll have to resolve that instead.
Bite me, world.
astera at 10:01 a.m.