anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,

dance with the devil

Was reading blacwynter's diary, and I was instantly reminded of my own self-pity session that took place a few hours ago. It's the same old boring, trite, and recycled song again: Nobody cares, la la la, I'm alone in the world, la la la, I only have myself, la la la.

Despite the la la la's, it's not pretty. As I walked out of my class without a goodbye to anyone but P who said bye to me after Maths remedial, I was thinking to myself, "I realised something..." Forgot what I thought exactly, but it suddenly struck me that I was talking to myself. In my head, yes, but I was still talking to myself about philosophical stuff that should be shared with other people. As per usual, I had only myself to share it with. And so began my self-pity trip.

But let's not go on further about that. I've been pretty down the whole day, although I don't think any of my friends noticed. Today's YS's birthday. We bought a cake for her, a mango one from Jack's was fucking awesome. The cake, that was. Very, very tasty. A lot of cream...yum.

Okay. Why am I typing about a bloody cake? But I've decided I want that for my birthday, instead of the usual chocolate ones. Yeah.

Mom just told Dad I have at least one test every day. Why did she? I still haven't mentioned a thing about failing all the tests (including the "simple" probability test I took yesterday; 5/25, which = 20%), and I don't want to think about them, or talk about them, or be reminded of or whatever them. I've enough shit to deal with.

I get pissed off in school, and pissed off at home. School and home are the only 2 places I go to every day (pathetic, but true, so it's official: I don't have a life), and since I get pissed off in those two places...where is my refuge? Not within self, because there has proven to be way too fragile and flimsy. Not within friends, because it has never worked, and it will never work. Not within family, because...well, parents are parents. They don't understand.

Um, then again...who the fuck does?

Change of topic. The factory my dad works in? The one my uncle owns? Caught fire. Dad's thinking of quitting his job. In other words, money and stuff is going to be really tight.

Another problem I don't want to deal with.

I seem to have already mastered the art of running away.

Tags: angst, diaryland friends, family

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