Me speaking: "Yeah, they do."

Me thinking: You make me wanna die.

I hate myself for having an obsessive personality.

I hate myself for never knowing what to say.

I hate myself for letting her make me stupid.

I hate myself for not knowing what to do about it.

I hate myself for falling in the parking lot and spilling coffee all over myself.

I hate myself for being nothing more than stupid high school student.

I hate myself for spending so much time lying in my bed listening to Portishead and contemplating all the what-ifs of a girl who is never going to love me.

I've also been feeling particularly unattractive these past few days but that's not really important . . .

I wish I could think that she was cute and leave it at that, but I can't because I'm an obsessive loser and I have to throw my entire self into everything. There is no such thing as moderation when it comes to me. And it really pisses me off that I've made her such a huge issue.

I went completely insane last night over the whole thing (if she hadn't mentioned the dream, none of this would have happened) and stayed up until one in the morning drafting the most pathetic two page note confessing my . . . whatever the hell you wanna call it, obsession, crush (although I hate that word). Anyway. Forunately, my better senses returned to me and the note stayed in my possession. It was bad. It started off with a half-page disclaimer about how it was late at night and I was over-caffienated and just simply weird. And then I said that I was afraid of her and thought she was cute and didn't want her to hate me and defended the fact that I was not a pervert. I've never even been accused of being a pervert and my lesbian-self hasn't bothered Bridget thus far, but for whatever reason I felt the need to defend myself against that. I really don't get me.

I told Kim in the car this morning that if I gave the note to Bridget, at worst, Bridget would start burning crosses in my front yard. To which Kim responded, "Yeah, but does she know where you live?" Somebody missed the point. [shaking my head in disappointment]

I bought some girly underwear in attempts to dull my self-loathing, but it didn't work.

"I wanna be cool, tall, vulnerable and lucious/ I would have it all if I only had this much" -Liz Phair

What I really need is to find a girl who feels that she is equally incapable of functioning in society. Except that she would probably be afraid of me and do the same things that I'm doing now and we'd never get anywhere to begin with. This is never going to get any better . . .

I hate myself for suggesting that Kim lock her diary.

last - next