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?"
Brittany pulled into my driveway a little after eleven Saturday morning. After two months of separation, that old, familiar adrenaline rush flooded through me, the tenser kind that I felt the first semester of junior year, when she was still a mystery and every word spoken to her was a struggle. She hasn't gotten any less beautiful. In these two months she's become a myth of sorts, a mere mental photograph grainy and faded, a distant idea of a person. Every second spent that day I cherished her tangibility, her thereness.
So. I feel like a complete asshole right now, and here's why. This past weekend was a three-day weekend. I didn't do much, except have a two-hour conversation with my dad about my sexuality and my mom's twisted brainwashing capabilities and go to my top college's open house, but we'll get to all of that later. Brittany promised we'd hang out this weekend. Well, okay. The words "I promise" were never said, but she made it seem like we would without any shadow of a doubt get together finally, after two months of not seeing each other.
I am not in a good place right now.
It's really hard for me to explain this, but it's evolved from that emptiness I described in my previous journal. It's become straight-up depression. I'm tired all the time. Not just that typical teenager brand of tired. It's an exhaustion that I can feel deep in my bones, in my mind, in my eyeballs. I have almost no will to get out of bed every morning. My eyes look awful when I look in the mirror, baggy and hollow, and they burn and all I want to do is sleep again.
First and foremost, I now have a twitter. If you'd like to follow me you can send me a PM. I'm not announcing this as a shameless attempt at self-promotion; I think it would be neat to follow people on here. I mostly got it to follow Brittany. Ha.
Welp, my dad knows I'm gay, which doesn't surprise me. My sister had a conversation with him about it in my absence, and he's fully supportive of me and doesn't mind at all. He's also really pissed off at my mom because of how she's handled it. So everyone in my immediate family knows. That's good.
I deleted my journal from a few days ago because it was pointless. This one's not much better in terms of significance, but I need to write this for myself because I'm struggling right now.
I'm struggling because I feel empty. That's the simplest way I can describe it, but to say I feel "hollow" or "empty" is also a minimization of everything, and not totally accurate.
I hate today. It's when all of the documentaries and specials about the Twin Towers invade every channel, everybody is drawn in because humans love a good tragedy, we all soak up the raw emotion and act like it touches us so deeply and so personally. I cannot for the life of me understand the need to hold an eleven-year grudge. Yes, terrorists are bad. Yes, 9/11 was bad. For fuck's sake, we get it.
So, this entire journal is just me spewing my self-induced misery all over the place to complete internet strangers...yeah. First off, my mom is a bitch. Overstatement? I don't think so. She still drags my sister and I to church, so we decided to make some not-so-subtle statements. When everybody else is up and singing and praisin' the lord, we remain sitting, slumping in our chairs and texting nonchalantly. During the sermon we sit there in a daze or pretend to be falling asleep, or we whisper amongst ourselves and giggle.
For my World Lit class I was told to write fifteen things about myself. They could be anything. We weren't given any limitations or concrete guidelines, except that some of them had to be deep and revealing. This is what I wrote.
1) My only real voice exists on paper; I'm more complete than ever when I'm writing.
2) I refuse to eat the outer edges of any flavor of Pop Tarts.
3) I have this insane idea that one day I can save the world with nothing but words.
My first week of school is done already. I can already tell that senior year is gonna fly by even faster than junior year. Before I get into any usual shit, does anybody watch that MTV show Made? Because one of the dudes from the show, one of the "life coaches" or whatever, Jeff Yalden, is coming to our school to speak to us tomorrow. He's some big-shot motivational speaker who apparently reaches teens in a deep and profound way. I cracked up because in his video greeting our school, he's all, "I'm cool, I'm edgy, I tow the line."
I caught wind of a disturbing statistic about abusive relationships the other day. Supposedly abuse is twice as likely to occur in lesbian relationships than heterosexual ones. I'm always wary whenever statistics like that are presented to me because it's so easy to misrepresent the numbers and such. If that's true, and I remain highly skeptical, then I don't understand how. Women as a whole tend to be less aggressive. I dunno.
My summer is drawing to a close. I have exactly eight days to enjoy it, and what do I do? I get myself grounded. Mind you, I've only been grounded one other time in my life, only because for whatever reason my mom is not the punishing type. I went out with Brittany Thursday evening. I was told to be back home by 11:30 at the very latest. I didn't come home until three in the morning.
Nobody's posting anything. I guess I will, even though I just wrote a journal a couple days ago. Hooray for hogging the journal section! So I registered for school today, and it was weird. It was weird because this is my last year as a high school student and things are gonna change a lot. I don't know how I feel about anything and it's just...weird. They decided to put me in P.E first hour despite my protests. What the fuck. I'm a zombie in the morning and they expect me to run and shit. They expected me to do calculus first thing in the morning last year and now this. God damn it.
I have her pinned against the wall. My arms become a cage. She refuses to look me in the face, her eyes stubbornly focusing on the ground beside me. We are the same height but here she is so small, shrinking into the bricks. I'm not sure what this is. Am I threatening her? Is this an act of intimidation? Desperation? If she tried to escape would I...No. Never.