Tomorrow I go in at twelve o’ clock. Being a senior fucking rules!
- Senior Ditch Day
- Grad Night
- No CHASEE
- No more CST
- No more SATs
- Upper class men
- FINALLY LEAVE THE SHIT HOLE THAT IS HIGH SCHOOL AND MOVE ON TO BETTER THINGS!
I want to experience a heart break. I just want to feel something that will prove to me that I am capable of being human. Sometimes I feel so detached from myself and from everyone around me. I don’t mean it figuratively either. Sometimes I’m walking around school and don’t even realize it. It’s like I completely zone off to my own delusional reality and I snap back to everyone else’s. It’s a weird feeling. Like I blink my eyes and, poof, I’m here again. I don’t even realize when I zone out. In that moment, I feel completely separated from my body. I feel like I don’t even exist, literally, and everyone and everything around me feels completely foreign, as if I’m seeing them for the first time. It’s such a trip. I wonder why I have these episodes, though.
I feel nostalgic right now…
I don’t regret my past. I regret wasting my time with the wrong people. I know that makes me a bad person, but I can’t help the way I feel. I wonder how my life would have been different had I chosen different friends and made different choices. Yet, I feel that if I fucked up in my life it’s because there’s a purpose for it. There’s a purpose behind everything and my situation is not an exception. I can’t help it, you’re my kind of man. I feel like I have so much to say but I can’t express it. What I feel doesn’t have any means of expression. At least I can’t find it. I should expand my vocabulary.
I struggle a lot with my sexuality. I don’t know what I’m sexually attracted to. Do I like women or men? Both come to mind when I think about sex, but I can’t fathom the idea of being in a relationship with a woman. That’s an easy task when I think about men. I think I’ve only liked one girl before. We just had so much in common it was almost creepy. I felt like she truly understood me, appreciated me as a person, and she made me feel like I mattered. I stopped talking to her. Maybe I was too afraid to get any closer. She was just too amazing to be real. I didn’t want to know more than I wanted to and risk shattering the perfect illusion I had of her. Those feelings still linger in the back of mind, but they’re not as overwhelming as they once were.
I felt the same way about another person - a male. I was friends with him and I never got to really know him. In retrospect, I realize that we were more like acquaintances, more than anything. Regardless, he just seemed to be the one for me. He still does. I can’t help but to think that one day fate will intertwine our paths once again. He seems like a person who I can talk to without fear of judgment. It just seems like we’re meant to be. It’s a notion that I can’t escape. He’s my Cancer and I’m his Scorpio.
At times, I am perfectly content and satisfied with the fact that I do not have a life.
I’m borderline right now, though.
I’m bored, tired of reading Homestuck, and feel like my whole body has been lathered in grease. My fingers, my face, my glasses.
I wish I had a boyfriend.
Internet Explorer
can suck my nonexistant penis. It’s terribly slow and I just don’t like it. I can’t use Google Chrome because my anti-virus program always pops us when I use it so that can’t be good. Firefox lags to load moving images, which is pretty much the essence of Tumblr, which is pretty much the only site I go to (not really, I just typed that for emphasis). Internet Explorer doesn’t even have autocorrect. (Is that two words?) Don’t even get me started with Safari.
So I was getting my Homestuck fix and I just got the urge to write. No, I am not a complete fanatic, but the comic is pretty addicting so I need to read it every few days. My friend, who is a total Homestuck walking encyclopedia, introduced me to it. She always makes these refrences and her Trumblr is full of Homestuck characters that I haven’t seen in the comic yet, so I don’t really understand what’s going on. Like right now I’m Dave, a short lanky kid. Then I go to her Tumblr and I see “Dave” wearing some killer shades, tall, and in another sort of form, and there’s other characters that follow the same pattern. What the fuck happened? Yeah I need to read further.
I want to sleep like a bear
I just ate two slices of pizza and I feel sick to my stomach. I can feel the oily remains on my tongue and feel as if it is smeared all over my face. My fingers feel disgustingly greasy and I feel like my head has been filled to the brim with fat. I’m so fat, though, that I don’t need to eat pizza to get this feeling. I can eat a cookie and I feel this way. No more. As of tomorrow I am going on a diet. My brother has been on one and he’s already lost ten pounds. He didn’t even take the pizza when my mom offered him some. I think that’s why I only ate two slices instead of my usual four to five. I admit, I am a very competitive person. My brother doesn’t know this, but this diet is a competition, he is my rival, and I will beat him.
This is the first Zelda comic that I’ve actually drawn by hand, so I was a little apprehensive about posting it. I’ve been enjoying taking a little more time and drawing comics the old fashioned way recently.
I made this in eighth grade to torment my history teacher. He was racist, sexist, generally bigoted, verbally abusive, and vaguely pedophilic. For an entire school year, he was my arch-nemesis and I was his. Ooooh, he hated me! It was notorious how obvious his loathing for me was, and I did nothing but encourage it.
I would have given him a fair chance, but in the first week of school he declared that the Muslim Agenda is to conquer America, enslave women, cut off our heads, and slice our Christian throats. Those words exactly, to a room full of 12-13 year-olds. I asked him right then and there if he had any unbiased sources for that information excluding Rush Limbaug or Fox News. He glared at me, the seeds of hate taking root, and I knew that it would be a long year.
Classes were bad enough. Being singled out and asked to explain my stance on abortion for the whole class to hear, then interrogated about my moral values and subjugated to the most twisted excuse for ‘logic’ I’ve ever heard to prove that I was dangerously antisocial in my views. Assigned the position of defense attorney during mock trials in what was a textbook example of a Joker Jury (I won! I won fair and square and the only reason my defendant was found guilty was because he was stringy and stupid and everyone’s favorite victim) and THEN informing the class that the outcome of a trial is always dependent on the quality of the defense attorney. One day, without warning, he came to my desk and dropped a dictionary on my homework, told me to stand up, find the definition of ‘marriage’, and read it aloud for the whole class to hear. I knew what his game was so I pointed out that the edition was released in 1989 and so was obsolete because it was published before legalization of same-sex marriage and was biased. He made me read it anyway, then asked me why I was thinking about homosexuals if he never brought it up, obviously trying to make me out myself as a lesbian.
Yeah, fuck you, too, Smith. Outside of class he was even worse — if he caught me alone, he’d loom over me, try to stall me and make me late to other classes, and told me flat-out that I was a disrespectful and audacious little girl with a mind closed to learning. He was friends with my Health teacher and conspired with him to humiliate me — invariably, I was called upon to be weighed in front of the class and told that I was “fat on the inside” even though I looked scrawny. Yes, seriously. We reported Mr. Smith’s behavior to the administration and superintendent. They ignored us. My mother was told that nothing would be done about it because I had “a history of noncooperation” with teachers and staff, nevermind the fact that all of my other teachers considered me among their best students ever.
Aaaaanyway. I got back at him through my own small, infuriating rebellion. Laughing at him during solemn moments. Sitting and reading through the Pledge of Allegiance each morning. Dropping the ‘mister’ from his name when I addressed him. Arriving early in class and doing my homework in the three minutes before the bell rang — and getting full marks. Drawing transvestites and Muslims in the margins of my papers. When he announced that he shared a spiritual bond with Abraham Lincoln because he shared a birthday with him, I said, “Wow, good thing you weren’t born on April 20th” and asked if he shared the same bond with Charles Darwin. I brought in a stack of pamphlets (supplied by my mother) of common misconceptions about Islam and left them around the room. I’d stare at him intently and make weird faces at him while he taught so that he’d suddenly forget what he was saying because he was so flustered.
What does any of this have to do with Lincoln in a patriotic g-string? Well, having a ‘spiritual connection’ with someone apparently means completely covering the walls of your classroom with images of their face. There were blown-up portraits the size of beds on every wall. Lincoln masks hung from the ceiling. A cardboard cutout of Lincoln stood near the door. Images of Lincoln were everywhere — thousands of beady Lincoln eyes glowering from every surface. It was unnerving. His passion for Lincoln was clearly erotic, made more disturbing by his vocal hatred of homosexuals. On Lincoln’s death-day, he stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed, swaying back and forth and whispering the Gettysburg address in front of his Lincoln shrine. He described in great detail how the doctors had removed Lincoln’s clothing to discover his refined musculature and gleaming, sculpted chest.
So I drew this in class and let him see it over my shoulder. Trololol.
