08.29.2004
Two Entries in One Night - Not a Good Sign
I love the way my roommate laughs out loud at TV shows. Constantly. I enjoy seeing the shadow of my face on the bathroom wall from the lamp in my bedroom reflecting off the otherwise dark mirror. I like reading in the paper about people teaching other people how to live and love and form good relationships.
I hate feeling forced to sleep when I'm not ready. I hate having to wake up early for work and knowing it's a 10-hour shift. I hate feeling like I don't have enough time for everything, like just maintaining my sense of self. Trying not to fade away.
I'm a fucking broken record nowadays. Oh, poor me, I'm so fucked up, yadda yadda. But it's not untrue, either. When will I be whole again? And what am I waiting for? I feel like I'm always waiting. When does the waiting end and the living begin? I'm living now, more than I was pre-surgery (I'm really starting to fucking loathe that word, "surgery". Need substitute, please offer suggestions). Yet I still feel incomplete, missing puzzle pieces, lint in the bathroom corners.
Everything to be said has already been said before. There's nothing new. Yet I still feel like there are things I need to say. I'm not original, and I don't care. Teenagers have the monopoly on angst? I think not. I am the fucking rebel without a cause of my world. Enjoy the ride.
alannablue at 11:18 p.m.