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Feeling: Calm. Loving my life. |
Eating: Um... life?
Wearing: Jeans, black tank top with built in bra, lavender panties, eith a little sleeping kitty on them, my claddagh, green choker and matching earrings, contacts, vestiges of the day's make-up, black belt.
Listening to: *Hummmmrumblerumblerumble* It's my washing machione making contented noises.
Chatting with: Keeping my own counsel.
Thinking: "I need to concentrate on my posture more."
Remembering: Dave's tongue ring.
Glad for: My ability to move past fear into growth.
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Today is: 2002-05-08 - @ 6:30 p.m.
it sux.....somtimes all time - is relative
First I need to say something. This is not just about Peter and this enrty was not written because of anything peter said or did. I am not being sarcastic.
I have this kind of horrible trait of being just, well, being lovable. There is no way I am going to be able to write this entry without coming off as completely and totally self-absored and full of myself, so I am not even going to try. What I am talking about it for some unknown reason to me, people love me. that isn't really that bad, when it is like a best friend, mon amie, thing, but it is horrible when these guys fall for me and I don't fel anything back. Yeah,m these are nice guys, guys that would take great care of me, and I reeally should like them. Except I don't. And I cannpt tell this guy who just bared his entire being to me that I couldn't entertain the idea of being in a relationship with them. I really don't like making them cry any more then they already have. Because they have before. They all do. "I watched my dad beat my mom with a cord from the computer." "I saw my big sister die in front of me." "My parents have have never said once that they loved me." you think I am over exaggerating? No, I swear on my life, if anything I am toning it down for any younger readers. Peter calls me a bugzapper, a distressingly accurate disciption of what I am. I draw guys oo me with a bright light, then they burn up in a passion filled burst, leaving very little. That is why I think I will be such a good pyschologist because I know how to distance myself from their pain. I have to. I didn't know how to in the begining. Which left me crying on the phone at 2 in the morning while Mr. Fucked-Up tells me his life story. I feel as if I am stuck in a giant fishbowl, being able to see everything and do nothing. I mean, I am a 15 year old girl, I haven't gottne my degree yet. Shit...I feel so horrible writing this. These guys, you can't imagien the looks in their eyes when they tell me they love me. It is sad. Not that their aren't exceptions to the rule. I know how to love. I have twice. (NO, not in the physical sense) I don't want people reading this and thinking, "Oh poor girl, she has all these guys that love her, let me pity her." I can't descirbe the weight of someone elses soul once they trust you with it. So indescribably heavy and so very very fagile.
all time - is relative