I just got done taking a shower because I felt gross and wanted to be clean in celebration of my nice clean sheets. And then I laid on my bed for awhile, feeling soft, smelling like too sweet lotion and green tea conditioner and in a very cuddly mood, and was there anybody there to take advantage of that? No. Of course not. Just me smelling good for my goddamn ugly sheets.

And from there it went way the fuck down hill because I was listening to "Pulse" and it got to that part where she keeps repeating "I would offer you my pulse, I give you my breath" and that made me think of who I would be willing to die for. And my template situation was that it was me and the other person in a room and a big bad scary guy came in and said that he was going to rape and kill one of us and we had to choose which one it would be. And I plugged all sorts of people into the equation and realized that it didn't really matter who the hell I was in the room with because I felt just as willing to volunteer myself. And from there, I started thinking about someone tearing my body apart and smearing my blood all over the walls and I had a really indifferent if not slightly interested attitude about the possibility of it all.

Twisted. I've eaten far too much candy today.

But I've seriously been having a mental panic attack because I've convinced myself that I will never be loved. And I believe the root of that is that I went to check something out about admissions at the university website and ended up looking at the GSA page. First of all, they had things like cookouts and gay stereotype fashion shows on their upcoming events list. A homoclusive barbecue? Does that seem terribly wrong to anyone else? And then in all of the pictures that they had, the only girl that I saw was that chick that took Cedar's senior pictures. And she's nasty. This town is full of nothing but nasty girls and if they try to touch me, I will die. No, I don't want to belong to your all-gay organization. No, I don't like rainbow banners. Don't put your bumper sticker on my goddamn car. I am foreseeing a painful future.

Is there something wrong with me that I have such an absolute loathing for queer-centric events? Am I a bad homo for not wanting to talk for hours on end about coming out and gay marriage and public displays of affection and the russian band that makes out with each other and will and grace and all the rest of this really bad gay shit?

Here's what my lesbian self boils down to: I like girls . . . very very much. I like girls that look like boys. Hot girls that look like boys make me wanna cum. I want my very own hot girl so that I can have someone to cuddle with when I smell good. There you go. It's that simple. I don't need to belong to some fancy rainbow plagued organization for that.

But I fear that I will become desperate and my life will become nothing more than GSA meetings and nasty girls and gay pride paraphenilia.

[praying]: God, save me from weekends spent in a lesbian bar.

Speaking of . . . (you'll either follow my train of thought or you won't)

Cedar called me tonight. Naturally, I didn't answer the phone because my parents paid good money for that goddamn machine. I hope she didn'y actually think that I'd call her back. Why the hell won't she just drop it? I think we're at a pretty good place. I don't feel any hostility towards her not do I feel awkward being around her. But I don't want to hang out with her anymore and I don't really want to be her friend and I don't have anything else to say to her. I'm done with the whole thing and her persistance is nothing short of irritating.

Note to self: Change number, don't tell Cedar.

One of the new girls that I work with made a comment about how she had seen me hanging around Cedar a lot. So I told her that we used to hang out a lot. And then I had to listen to this girl for about ten minutes, telling me about how cool and fun Cedar was. And when I was seconds away from impaling myself with the pen attached to my register, she mentioned that Cedar had shown her the movie. Oh yeah, the movie. The guerilla "it" groups knows what I'm talking about. Melissa said she thought it was really funny and I told her it was Cedar's Bible. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to watch But I'm a Cheerleader again without thinking of Cedar, out to recruit new friends and convert straight hairy hippies with great [cough, cough] lesbian films.

Save me from the prospect of a nasty lesbian life.

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