Hair still not completely dry. Obviously still bored. I read a few of the messages I exchanged with the male friend, whose name is - shall I do this? what the hell - Cain (tell me if you mind, okay?) out of boredom, and it's just hit me how long it has been since I have last conversed with him on ICQ. One cannot blame me, as ICQ is a bitch and my computer does not have that much brainpower.
He has acess to this journal because I told him about the entry where I talked about him, but I really don't care. I think I do miss talking to him online, because it has been fun, sometimes infuriating. But still fun. There is nothing more fun than exchanging tips on how to further hone one's craft of sarcasm, and I look down at myself and realise I did not button the very first button of my brand new pyjamas. Oh well. I like it like that.
Looked up Ian's user info, and the reason I don't care that I'm typing his name out for everyone to see is because I don't think he'd ever see this, and even if he does, I doubt he remembers me, that is we're assuming he hasn't killed himself, but then again was that even real?, and was hit by a brief sad-attack. As much as I want to forget him, I can't, because you really cannot forget those whom you felt have made a difference in your life. Ian certainly has/had, both in the positive and the negative aspect.
Do I need to put an 's' behind the word "aspect"? Does anyone care?
Dammit Cain, why aren't you online? I am so bored, and the blasted hair ain't dry yet. Can you create a diary so that I can read it? :)
The Ex-Best Friend's user info made me want to laugh. In the bad way. Just opened it. It's really funny. Under "homepage", she wrote this: "[+lif�is�bitch�ndth�ny�udi�][s�f�ck
That part about the English being good? Sarcasm. Just wanted to point that out. Felt like doing some bitching this morning. Cain still isn't online, no one interesting is, and I still have nothing to do but type, and the damn hair still isn't completely dry. What am I to do, write poems about how bored I am?
12.16 a.m., and still no sign of life on ICQ. Am not even bothered to open it up and check whether Ex-Best Friend is still there, because I'm not going to talk to her anyway. I hate ICQ, and I don't feel like going on MSN IM. IMs really suck.
But that's because I don't have anyone to talk to.
I want love. I want to look for love. I want love to find me. I want love to hold, to touch, to praise, to feel. Dammit, I really want it. But from whom? I don't know anyone, and Dad is too uptight to allow searching. This longing has been in me for the past few days, and I didn't want to mention it here, but it seems to have a life of its own. It surfaced and forced me to say it. I bloody want love, are you happy now? Are you happy now that I have admitted what I refused to admit one, two, three years ago? To total strangers too? What the hell do you want from me? What do I have to do to get it, excluding the sex?
What is it that is so wrong with me that nobody seems to like? I may not be a knock-out, but I'm not ugly either. I have seen guys check me out. I have seen men leering at me before. And my mind? I kind of like it. I pride myself on being different. You don't like it? Fuck you then.
I wish I could truly say that. But truth be told, how could I, when I want the exact opposite?
Maybe I'll just go to sleep or something. Not sleeping has obviously brought out the weirdest in me. 12.25 a.m. No change on the ICQ front. Not exactly waiting, but maybe I'm doing that sub-consciously. Whatever it is, I'm tired. I'm pissed off that it's Valentine's Day on Thursday, and it's still the same marital status-wise. Has been the same for 16 years already. How could one not tire of it?
Repeat like a mantra: I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity. I will not sink into self-pity.
I actually did type them all out. What a loser.
PS. I will not sink into self-pity. 12.29 a.m.