Goddamn these people that I live with. They're all insane.

I'm feeling overtired and extremely moody. Yes, I will kill you if you look at me the wrong way. No, I'm not going to smile.

I think that anyone who tells a person such as myself to smile should be shot. Do I ask you to put on your best 'eat shit' look because your excessive optimism is wearing me out? Of course not. And what the hell would you say if I did? Yeah, that's what I thought. So if my solemn look is making you a little uneasy (most likely because you assume the look means that I don't like you) get the fuck over it. First of all, I probably don't give a shit about you and would therefore not go out of my way to dedicate a facial expression to you. And secondly, I'm not Mrs. fucking Potato Head. You don't get to make my face look exactly the way you think it should.

"You know, it takes more muscles to frown than to smile."

Oh really. Jesus hates you.

The level of family dysfunction is directly related to my level of absolute loathing of everything and everyone.

Dad and I drove into town tonight to pick out tattoos and all the way there he kept talking about how mom was being bitchy at dinner. (Maybe I missed something, but I'm pretty sure that her attitude could be attributed to the three year old stabbing others with her fork and then throwing a fit. Just a thought.) And of course he's convinced mom hates him and that she's psychotic and that he never does anything wrong (bullshit bullshit bullshit) and that he hates his life and his job and what should he do. Well, what you should really do, Dad, is try going 60 instead of 45, seeing as how the speed limit is 55 and there are a lot of pissed off people behind you. I hate the way he drives. And I hate when he bitches. This is not my problem, not my fault. I told you not to get married but what the fuck did I know when I was thirteen, right? You're almost forty. Deal with it yourself, because I sure as hell don't want to.

On a lighter note, I've been thinking a lot about the whole Bridget thing and here's what it comes down to: I want the Bridget thing to play out like a melodramatic lesbian b-movie. Innocent Bridget, questioning her sexuality amidst friends and relatives that she know could never understand, turns to me, the gritty lesbian with a fuck-it attitude. We become . . . ummm . . . involved. But it's an unequal relationship. She thinks she's in love, I know I'm not. A few months or weeks or days (the period of time is really quite trivial) later, I leave to go to school and tell her that I have no intention of continuing the relationship. She cries alone in her room. She leaves for school, comepletely devastated. And then one day as she is going through the racks at a thrift store, she meets the girl of her dreams who is everything that she ever needed and is incredibly pixie cute. The pixie nurtures all of Bridget's emotional wounds and they live together happily ever after in a cozy little apartment with their kittens and a goldfish.

That riveting storyline reveals a lot of unpleasant things about my personality, doesn't it?

I think it goes to say that I don't really want things to happen like that. (Except for the perfect pixie girl because what more could you want for a person?) But I am really not feeling any desire to pursue a potential relationship with this girl. However, if she were to begin a pursuit, I might be willing to run with it for awhile. I really hate believing that she just might like me a little bit because I feel really vain and like I'm setting myself up for a huge letdown. But it's become kind of a strange situation and I'm not really sure what's going on.

Why doesn't she have an online diary so that I can read her innermost thoughts and end this confusion? Maybe she does has one and I'm just not looking hard enough . . .

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