posted on February 15, 2004 @ 3:30 am
"lizzie mcguire"
"unwrapped" (food network)
"five ways to become a candy maker"
"the jersey" (disney)
this evening when i awoke at seven, i could barely move my neck. mom massaged it, going deep on the most painful area. i sat at the kitchen table wincing and gritting my teeth as i envisioned the acid and reese's pieces in my stomach dance, twirl, dip, and as i feared they'd continue upward when rising from their dip she suddenly stopped and returned to cleaning the kitchen. in a few seconds the nausea disappeared, only to retrun when she continued massaging my neck. later, as we ate, doug asked about jennifer. i informed him she's done this to several others before, and he informed me people have done this to me several times before.
the gasps of "oh my god, what did you do!" during the past month and a half have convinced me to avoid all human contact. i think at this point amiable, non-awkward interactions wouldn't even be possible. i ignore phone calls (the four i've gotten), remove people from my buddy list (not that anyone talks to me anyway, just a precaution), and i miss my cats more than i ever have, and i've only been away from them for one day. when random people talk to me while i'm out, i have nothing to respond with anymore.
i spent my valentine's day morning driving seven hours (as opposed to the usual four and a half) in snow and sleet to get to my family, slept until seven p.m., and watched a lizzie mcguire marathon after mad tv because gordo is the cutest thing i've ever seen. last year oobi was my valentine. :looks down: mom keeps saying she didn't know why i even came in such weather. but they're the only people who i know will always love me and talk to me no matter what. i've treated them more badly than anyone who now hates me, yet my parents and grandparents are the only ones still around, and i don't think i could ever do wrong in sarah's eyes.
on my drive home, the ocassions when there was no precipitation and i was alone for miles in all directions, it felt nice to be alone. as the sun began to rise, the cloud-filtered light turned the trees, road, and snow blue, and i felt like a lone vessel travelling through the antarctic. once the sun was lighting the countryside as brightly as possible behind all the cloud-cover, i stared at fields of snow, something i'd never seen before, not knowing when the earth ended and the clouds just waiting to burst began. i sang along with the hippos and a powerpuff girls-inspired cd 50 miles outside of dallas and willingly slowed down when someone approached from the southwest so they would pass and leave me be with my bubbling music and oceans of snow.
i really hide it away for most the time and ignore the fact the only people who aren't tired of me in austin are my cats, not people. i don't want to go to a bar, i don't want to get drunk, i don't want to do drugs. apparently, no one likes the idea of being home and sober. there are six people who care about me, and they're all so far away.
"one of these days i'm gonna have a girl to skate with."
"we've been saying that since we're ten."
"and i'm gonna keep on saying it!"