i used to think i was competitive

But competition ain't my thing, and I don't like to fight for the guys I want.

now you flip the script, playa pleasth.

officially over it

and anyone who makes me have to question myself. you probably suck.

I also love being blessed with the clarity to see that the people I thought were cool actually aren't that cool, and it's good to know this now.

pussy

boy, do i feel like a dummy.

having a vagina is a curse. end of story amen.

I could be a better person etc etc

but the term "better", when applied to human being, is so contrived that I find it hard to acknowledge it as a kind of categorization at all.
There is never better or worse, only what's good and what isn't.
You're on my level now, bro. Deal with it.

Sarah's lists about me

1) The "Boy/Girl" List
Specific things I have done/said divided up into a boy or girl column, in order to determine whether I'm more like a boy or a girl.
2) Anna's to-do and not to-do list
One thing has been crossed out, and it's only because it included "or make Sarah do it."
3) The "I'm Going to Stop Talking to Jesse" Tally
A record of how many times I've said I'm going to stop talking to Jesse.
4) The "Hate List"
The reasons I shouldn't get back together with Jesse.

NOTE: I do not necessarily condone the content of some of these lists, but I do find them really funny.

The things I hate about myself are the things you also hate about me.

You can't even see yourself being with someone like me, so cut the shit. It's not nearly as dramatic for you as you're making it seem. It sure helps get the ladies though.

I'm going to have to reactivate my Facebook again pretty soon because I realized that without it, I simply have no interactions with my peers outside of business settings. I can't wait for school to start, even though last year was harder than I thought to meet people, although I have found Monica, whom I adore. More so she found me. In that case, I vow to be more outgoing and join more clubs and etc. I'm always the hand raiser and have an insight into every topic in class, but I don't think it necessarily speaks much about who I am as a non-intellectual, i.e. a loud, comical shit-talker, as lovable and compassionate as I am brazen and opinionated. No one gets to know me as I really am. The people who do either love me to death, or they either despise me in my entirety--I can only assume I must represent things they don't like. Sure, I talk openly about how much some of the things you like suck, and I get really loud when I'm having a conversation that I like, or sometimes I just have to comment on absolutely everything that I find relatively absurd. But at the same time, I feel like this is what makes me who I am--unabashed with a complete lack of grace, yet at the same time, totally forthcoming and admitting of my downfalls, happy to be here, honest, and brimming with love to a fault.
This may seem narcissistic, but it's almost a plea for understanding. I feel disliked by people, and I really feel it's only because they don't know anyone else like me. I'm almost retarded because I'm not a part of the modern idea of how people are supposed to be. Fuck it. Fuck it alllll. The people who appreciate this mentality are my friends. The people who don't can suck it because they'll never like me.
And that's how it is.

The only thing I try to understand are the things that aren't happening.
I think about them constantly, and I know it's what ruins me. The last thing I ever wanted was to become something I'm not. The last thing I wanted was to force myself to pray, to force myself to think a little deeper.
But now I just do what is present and constant and always here, I do only what preoccupies my mind and my thoughts. I think only of things that no longer exist. It's in my mind whenever I close my eyes. My thoughts drift to things I wish never happened, to things I know were my fault.
The things that happened to me were always my fault, and I can't forgive myself.
I don't care if my parents have forgiven me, if my friends are over it, or even if Jesus died for these things.
I will never feel okay with the way I have lived.
I will never feel justified for the things I have seen or the choices I've made or the words that I said and the people I said them to.
Or the way that I looked at everyone.
The way I begged for them
and the way my body tightened around them for them and how I would have done anything just to feel like I was a part of them, to feel like they understood, to feel like I knew something others did not.
I feel like these thoughts will be constant and that nothing will stop them
that I will never sleep soundly
that I will never have a moment where I am not reminded
something doesn't come to mind.
Whether it's woods on a rainy day in Massachusetts, and the woods were mossy and green, and the sky was hanging with steam, and the branches were heavy with strings, and the only thing I could see is how it would be almost impossible to escape this place
how good the air felt heavy in my lungs and how I could taste it, and the rain was like mist that soaked my hair and my cheeks, and is this really how my life was going to be?
Or the time there were fists and feet clutching ribs, and I fell to the ground, and I screamed out some words that didn't make any sense, and I grabbed for hair and for flesh and for hips, and I felt the asphalt kiss my skull and dig into my spine and my back carried scars for a long enough time.
Or the way that no face saw the depths of my eyes, and no voice was the way I fell asleep every night, and no hair was soft to the palm of my hand, and how I made no mistakes because I see it for what it is
and the way that my callouses formed beneath skin.
Now I melt underneath something soft, and it's so hard to move at all, and sometimes I don't even wish that I could.
I know don't what I'm doing cause I haven't done it before
and I know that when it ends, I won't be able to understand how everything can still be the same for everyone else, and how I could have ever allowed myself to be the way that I am now.
I think the truth of it all, even though I don't know what it is or have I ever known what it is, is I can feel it deep and strong unlike anything else. Even if I'm at an age where I think maybe I've had to have learned something. But I'm exactly where I was and not at all who I thought I would be. I really thought maybe one day I'd make to school and have a good job and this money and be on some beach or in some sunny city.
And yet here I am in this hurricane land, and the cold only comes to make me feel warmer than I had before.