So, I'm just sitting in world lit, waiting for our fresh-out-of-college newbie teacher to quiet the class down, when my friend Haylee tells me there's a flyer by the door announcing the beginning of a GSA at the school. So I checked it out. It seems some brave soul decided to establish a GSA, which will meet for the first time February 5th. It's so odd that one of these would pop up in the conservative Midwest, but I'm so glad it did. It kinda gives me hope. Cautious hope, but hope nonetheless.
I...don't even know. So, Brittany and I didn't take the trip to my college. First, we were definitely going. Then in the past couple weeks it seemed like we wouldn't make it. Then she tells me she signed up and we're definitely going again. Then this morning, as I'm sitting by my door, all dressed up and eagerly waiting for her to pull into my driveway, she texts me saying that she woke up puking and is too sick to go.
I have no words.
That Jennifer Lopez song "Jenny From the Block" has been stuck in my head for three days now. I'm scared.
I just had a really weird thought. Y'know how it's a commonly held belief that in a relationship, the woman is always right? Well, if two girls are dating and they get into an argument, and if they're both women, who's right?! I just blew my own mind.
So here I am. My eyes are blotched a raw pink and my head is pounding, as it tends to do after a good, long, self-pitying sob session.
This is so fucking stupid. The specific reason I've been bawling for the past twenty minutes is so fucking stupid, but its underlying cause runs a lot deeper. This moment of pathetic, woe-is-me whining has also been a moment of sheer epiphany.
My epiphany is this:
My Christmas was dull. I spent half of it at my dad's, where I mostly listened to my dad's girlfriend's dad tell stories to my grandma about how everyone in his family beat the shit out of him when he was growing up. Then I went to my aunt's (mom's side of the family now) which was a bore. It wasn't bad, until my cousin mentioned that somehow a borrowed video game had gotten stuck in his busted-up Wii, and my other cousin added, "Didn't that game belong to Justin? That gay guy?" To which my grandma replied, "Ew get that game outta there!"
Since the college students are back in town for the holidays, our old newspaper staff decided to have a little reunion...at ten o'clock in the morning, which was irksome for me since I had to be at work by eleven forty-five. We scheduled the get-together so early to accommodate my former best friend, Judd, who had somewhere to be late afternoon. And the asshole didn't even bother to show up, or even RSVP at the very least. We picked a ridiculously early time just for him, and he doesn't even come because he was so hungover from drinking and getting high all weekend.
I found this really awesome website, outofprintclothing.com, that sells tees with classic book covers on them. All of my want. When I get my Christmas money, I am definitely buying the 1984 pullover and the Fahrenheit 451 tee, just for starters. They also have a Lolita tee, but I haven't read that one yet. I'm dying to read it though. It's at the top of my list. It's about this middle-aged English professor who gets romantically involved with his twelve-year-old stepdaughter.
Well, I suppose I'm not depressed anymore, if that's what I even was in the first place. At least I don't feel any sudden urges to cry anymore, so that's a step in the right direction, I think. I'm driven by...something. Scorn? Loathing? Hope for the future? Whatever is driving me through every day, it doesn't feel like anything too positive. Still fill pretty empty. I just don't really care about anything right now. The only two things I can safely say that I genuinely care about are knowledge (obtaining it, using it, getting lost in books and schoolwork) and Brittany.
Welp, my Thanksgiving was nothing worth mentioning. I had to make a list of things I'm thankful for in my Genre Studies class, which is a rather basic, childish assignment, but it did me some good to think about what I normally take for granted. I'm thankful that I've never experienced true hunger in my life, more than anything else. I always try really hard not to be materialistic. I succeed most of the time.
Not much to report here. My first appointment with my therapist since June is four days away and I couldn't be more excited. Can't wait to ramble incessantly.
My dad says that he had a talk with my mom on Thursday. He says that he told her that they need to support me and be there for me and that there's nothing wrong with my sexuality, and she didn't respond. She just moved on to the next subject. I should've known that what she told me about supporting me no matter what was utter bullshit. She's apparently secretly plotting to bring me back to the light of her god, refusing to give up on curing my atheism. I have a feeling my mom's family is gonna get involved in this before I can escape to college.
I've been taking a lot of naps lately, like almost every day. They last for hours. I sleep an unhealthy amount because it's really the only way I can shut my mind off effectively. I should really stop doing that.
This journal entry is entirely irrelevant, since none of us live under a rock, but Obama has been re-elected and I am sooooo relieved. I kept up with the electoral religiously last night. Romney was ahead several times and I thought about all of the awful things that would happen if he would win. That man would've single-handedly destroyed this country. That's not hyperbole, either. BUT OBAMA WON and my friends and I are all celebrating.
I didn't get a chance to watch his victory speech, but I'm sure I can find it on YouTube today.
-They say that you become what you pretend to be. Does that mean if I pretend to be fine, I'll be fine?
-If you rely on everyone around you for genuine happiness, prepare yourself for some disappointment. If you rely on one person for genuine happiness, you're totally fucked.
I've decided to go back to therapy. I know I'm not exactly in dire need of serious psychological help, but I'm alone. My relationship with my therapist, as I've said before, isn't exactly client/therapist, but almost leans towards a friendship. I just want to ramble incessantly about things and just have someone help me sort it all out, or maybe reword what I say in a way that makes more sense. I'm sure I won't be going too frequently. I just barely managed to convince my mom to let us reopen the case. She didn't see a need for me to go back. Maybe there isn't a need. I don't know.
Just a continuation of my last journal. Today I tried to pry out of Brittany whether or not she reciprocated my feelings and she kept being vague and kept dodging, so I decided to ask her bluntly: "I want a yes or no answer to this: Do you feel anything towards me at all?"