A Really Long Blog about myself.

Ugh fuck you! But saying that would only create tension. Tension that I don't feel like creating. I'm still anxious. Nothing happened tonight, I'm almost done with Girl Interrupted. It really grew on me.

I turned off my phone and lethargically tossed it onto the floor by my bed. I want to leave it off forever, but I know I'll cave.

Sometimes I don't know if I want to be an artist. That's scary. If that was made official, my entire life plan would crumble and it would be like haiti, but only relevant to me. Too far? Too far. But I'm not deleting it because it's my rule for blogging (which I've broken before, but oh well.)

I really like writing blogs. I'm also wicked excited for Creative Writing with Ms. Rubenstein. She is awesome. You know what else? I really don't like Ms. Nicastro's teaching style. I'm going to lie to her completely in that letter. She encourages "deep thinking" which is good, but not when it's put under pressure. And how can she grade it so harshly? I would assume that deep thinking is not a right or wrong instance, but apparently it is (0 out of 30 on an open response.) I totally just gave up in that class. My learning style didn't match her teaching style at all. And if I said this to her, she'd curb stomp me with an explanation that makes perfect sense, leaving me feeling utterly unsatisfied and stupid.

I wish I could tell what kind of person I am. Am I selfish? I can't tell, but I probably am, considering the circumstances. Am I a dumb person that's too dumb to know they're dumb, so they go on writing an elaborate blog unaware of how dumb it makes them look? I really hope not.

I have a confession.
Sometimes I really think that I only act as a source of entertainment for people. Because I'm so random and assertive and obnoxious. To this day I see my dog as my only true friend. Not true. Scratch that.
I miss my friend Domenica. She's the most real person I've ever met. I mean "real" in the way it's used by white trash girls on dating shows, like, not fake.

I think I'm a novelty for everyone. I really am. Besides with Kristina, and I've really begun to appreciate our friendship over the past few weeks. Even though it's not a normal friendship. I don't even understand it. But I'm glad about it.

I'm a novelty because I have blue hair. I'm an artist, which most find fascinating (it really isn't.) So people want to know the art kid with the blue hair. fuck that.  I love my blue hair though, so I think it's gunna stay. My blue hair exists partly for attention, too. Which I can't even explain right now.
And I know I'm a novelty. And sometimes I'm okay with it, but other times it really hurts. It makes me completely... I don't know the word, but you can probably guess the feeling.

I want to live in a mental institution. I'm not crazy, obviously, but I think it would be a crazy experience. Hey that's kind of a pun. You know, I bet I'd be terrified and hate it.

I'm kind of in a fuck everybody mood. Not angry, just annoyed by people. We all feel the fuck everybody mood sometimes.

It really hurts knowing I'm a novelty. It's why I haven't had a solid group of friends for more than a few months. That is really sad. I'm finally facing it, though. It's something I've known for a while, but didn't want to think about. It makes me feel... inadequate? Partly. Don't try to comfort me on this one, it's supported by fact.

And you know, I don't understand friendship. I don't understand it. I was unsocialized and now I don't understand friendship. I've always seen people as a source of entertainment. Something to do. But my best friend is drugs, and it always will be. I don't understand the good in life and I am aware of that, so I use drugs to numb myself from the feeling it gives me.

I'll probably read this tomorrow and think, "gee I feel the total opposite of that! not really though."

Now I want to cry. Trust me people, I am bad news. As in, I'm a bad influence. As in, I really just want to get high and you can come along if you want. In fact, I'll encourage it, maybe even pressure you, so I feel better about myself.

By writing this, I'm kind of burning a lot of bridges. I might not post this one.

some of this blog is probably just really exaggerated by my mood.

I do like people. There are people I genuinely like. I'm just so used to my friends moving on that I try not to get comfortable with a new group.

That's another reason. I've been really hurt by people I thought were my friends. I've been hurt a lot in my life by people I cared about. People.

Dogs.
People.
Dogs > people
Dog > Person

Okay, so this is the plan if I don't get into college:
Become a dog man/burn out.
Dog man as apposed to cat lady.
Burn out as apposed to happy productive person.
I like the sound of that. Oh my god. Why the fuck do I like the sound of that??? That scares me a little.

Has this been productive or counter productive? I think productive.

Before writing this, I decided that I was going to tear out some hidden thoughts from the deepest darkest crevices of my mind. I think I did a little. Gettin' there. Sort of.

I have yet to punch someone in the face. Theres this kid that has set himself up as a prime candidate though. During my study hall, he has art with ms. fusco. So if I'm in there doing stuff, he like, insults me for no reason. He calls me a faggot and stands in my way. For a while I was too depressed to give a shit, but now I want to punch that fucking sophomore in the goddamn face. What a prick. But I won't, because I'd get in a ton of trouble and the colleges might find out. But I think I'll push him first. It's funny how when I'm actually there, I don't give a shit, but when I'm here thinking about it, it makes my blood boil. If he says faggot, I think I'll say, "WHAT IF I AM, IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT!!??" And tower over him. I'd say it really loud so everyone would hear. It would be a scene. There is no way I'd get in trouble for punching him in the face if it was a retaliation to a hate crime. But no. It won't happen. It just isn't worth it. But maybe one day it will be. Then I'll fucking go crazy and curb stomp that bitch. Nah. Still not worth it. But just thinking it makes me smile. Thinking of punching him in the face, and getting the opportunity to tell his mother, in the school office, that her son sucks. She raised a kid that calls people faggot just to be an asshole. And I'd say to the principal,

"I do not regret what I have done. That kid deserved it. Someone had to punch him in the face. He was a jerk and needed to be taught a good lesson. You all should be thanking me."

I'd be a hero in my own eyes.

But no. It won't happen. And if it does, I hope I'll see you in office window giving me the thumbs up. I'd appreciate the support.
And then they might find this blog. They'd know I do drugs, and pre-meditated the entire act. Still worth it.

Keep one eye open when you sleep, prick.

Okay. I feel really good. So much weight lifted! Phew. wow, 11pm. I'm tuning out. Maybe I'll finally watch Up. I should do that. But it's 11 pm. I'll finish Girl Interrupted instead.

If you've read this entire blog, I am asking you to leave a comment saying, "macaroni." So I know that people actually read this. It would make me feel better inside.