hit another rough patch

It's kind of funny how I feel I have to post this out on the internet. But I post it in the blog that I know no one I know has even considered to exist. Maybe it's because of that whole business of how odd it is to be sharing most your intimate thoughts with the entire world wide web. But then, why should I care what a stranger thinks. Maybe it's some kind of cry for help. How the hell should I know.

All I know is that I scare myself sometime. It started happening this summer. I would sit in bed and I'd look around my room and I'd see something sharp, and wonder how much would it hurt if I just dragged it across my arm. Would it be quick? Would it be painful for days? Would I know when it went too deep? Would I cry out for help, or would I lay there in my room, bleeding to death, saturating my favorite things in the crimson blood.

Just typing that is giving me the chills, and I'm on the brink of tears. Why should I be thinking like that? Just because I don't have a support? I've been supporting myself emotionally since I was in grade school. The one person I thought would be my friend through the ages, I rarely talk to anymore, the newer friends whom I thought were almost my soulmates, they have their own new friends. Meanwhile, I'm left here, all on my own, wondering what exactly is wrong with me. Samantha called and said she's going to the party instead of coming over to watch the movie. I knew she would, something changed over break. Maybe I'm too clingy of a friend, or maybe I'm too boring. I think Drea is the only true friend I have. If I really needed to, I could call her day or night and she'd be there listening. Maybe that church connection is stronger than any other I have with my friends. It's funny in that I had a slightly rocky opinion of Drea. I rarely hate people, and when I do, I cannot be swayed to like them... ever.

Maybe I just need a good cry. But I can't. I can't make myself cry.

I want to be on my own. Completely. I want a good job, a nice home, a pet or two. And I want someone to be there with me. Either as a friend or whatever, I don't care. I want and need that pillar to be there for me. When I have a tough day or hit another rough patch, I need that warm shoulder to be there to coax the tears out of my tired eyes.

Fuck this is a damn emo post.

Life is Funny

So I'm finally away from home, and I haven't written here in awhile. Dorm life is phenomenal, in that I don't have parents to annoy the shit out of me.

I've been thinking a lot lately; too much, I'd say. But life is kinda funny. People have blogs all over the place, and you can't always tell if it's BS or not. But frankly, I don't think it matters. If you think it's BS and it's not interesting for you to read, then don't. I made an entire chain of fake xangas for all of the characters of a story I was writing. I got comments back, they thought they were real people - which was the goal. One of my friends even started doing it. We created an entirely new reality in which our characters were blogging into our own reality as well.

Anyway, pee time.