THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE

09-15-04 . 4:03 pm

Holy fuck.

How did I go from absoluetly fine to so fucking low?

I feel like shit. Sick to my stomach, a migraine so bad it made me dizzy, and now I have that really weak feeling every where. Like your muscles aren't strong enough to hold you up. Like right after you wake up and you can't make a fist because you're too tired.

And speaking of tired, all I did today was sleep. I slept in the car on the way to carpool, I slept all the way to school, I slept through assembly, I slept through lunch, and I slept all the way home.

And now my grandparents are here.

I swear to god. No one ever tells me anything.

They don't tell them anything either, apperantly.

None of us knew we would be in the same building...Which is funny. Because it is MY house.

But when there's people here I can't just go off and wallow in my own tormented misery. I have to appear slightly social.

Which I failed at, coming home. It hurt too much to process thoughts into actually words, let alone comprehendible sentances. It took me five tries to try to explain that I didn't have rehersal because there was nothing to reherse for because I didn't make the play which is a good thing because I didn't want to be in it anyway.

People need to stop telling me to be a tattoo artist when I grow up. And they need to stop asking me to fucking draw on them.

I mean, honestly. Just because I draw on myself constantly and I was reading an issue of Juxtapose all about tatoo artists, does NOT mean I have any interest in it.

Well. Okay, maybe it does.

But if you think that I'm going to waste ink on you when I don't even want to waste conversation on you, you should just go send in your K-Mart application early.

Oi. I'm in a bad mood. (Betcha couldn't tell, huh?).

More later.

Leave me notes. Am bored.

And avoiding homework.

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