Sitting here reading "Hard Love" (a book I've wanted to read for years now....a classmate/sort of friend had taken it from the school library and told me to read the first chapter since it has a lesbian in it and it was right after I'd come out..but I only got to read the first chapter, I bought it the other day, along with A Seperate Peace, my all time favorite book, and The Perks of Being A Wallflower, a book almost all of my friends have been telling me to read for like, ever now)...and thinking Jesus H. This is me.

My life has become some meaningless fucking void and I've lost myself in it. Half of what I say, I feel like it's half lies. I get so damn sick of telling my friends that it's going to be okay, when how in the hell do I know it's going to be okay? Do I really believe it, sickeningly enough, yes, I BELIEVE IT. And then, of course, you've got them going "aww" when I have said my day has been shit or when I'm in a bad mood and they wall want to make it better. They don't fucking get it, they can't.

And God Fucking Help Me, I miss Manda, Robbie, Shade, and Jamie so fucking much it's making me sick. They were the ones who understood this is all one big fake fucking lie. Even if Jamie was fake, he fucking knew. He got it. He got that this was not some perfect fucking world.

I'm studying Witchcraft and Wicca, and for almost three years, I've been a professed Christian. But it's never been me. I believe in Jesus, but I'm just not right with that shit. What kind of fucking caring God had followers who go around slaying people in his name? Sure as fuck isn't the God I know.

And I'm attuned to nature. I'm attuned to the supernatural. It's who and what I am. It always has been. I'm a fucking psycho, always have been. And what the fuck am I thinking pouring it out like this? Just dumping my life out like this.

I don't know anymore. I just want to run, to scream. Not to think. I don't want to talk to Adam, I don't want to touch him anymore. I don't want him to know me. I don't want him to see this, because he was raised like fucking Beaver. He doesn't understand what it's like to be a lie your whole life. He doesn't understand what it's like growing up with your mom expecting you to be a fucking super brain, and God forbid, you are. Which makes it even worse. And now she's a fucking PFLAG mom after being a fucking homophobe her whole life. And now she's lost her damned mind. Wait, scratch that, she lost it years ago.

I just don't fucking get it. I don't get how I can be with someone who lets video games snap his fucking personality like a twig and make him irate. I don't know how I can be with someone who just "wants to make it all better" for me. Life can't have a magic wand waved to make it better. It's a fucking roller coaster. It's a lesson. And lesson's are hard. And Jesus...I don't know what to do. I want to puke. I want to scream. I haven't written like this in forever. I haven't sat down and poured out my soul in years. I don't even know what this is about. I don't even know who I am anymore. *pause* Must check IRC.

Back. Adam wanted to know how to get rid of the politics at TH/HT. Not much he can do, to be honest. Except ignore the shit at TeenHelp and start over his way at HelpingTeens. Good luck, man.

Back to me. I'm bi. I'm freaking bi. I like chicks. Or do I? Is it all some game? I've never felt it is. I've never felt that it's wrong. I like boobies, lol. I don't know though, I just don't know. I don't know if I should run, if I should hide. If I should just stop. If I should just commit suicide and end it. Because what point do I serve really? I'm hopeless. I'm a High School Drop Out, who, woo, scored high on the GED so she got a full scholarship to the community college, big whoop.

I don't even know who the fuck I am. Except a failure. That's all I know. I failed Dylan, and he loved me the way I'd always wanted to be loved. And I failed that. And here I am with Adam, and we talk once in awhile. Like, for about an hour a day. And we spend ALL FUCKING DAY IN THE SAME GOD DAMN ROOM! We read things to eachother that our friends or what not say online, or things from video games.

We don't talk. It's like sometimes I feel like the me he's with isn't me at all. He knows my nerd side. He doesn't know me.

We don't talk. We just don't fucking talk. I mean, we do, but God, we spend most of the time in opposite sides of the room. Me at the computer living my net life, him at the PS2, or his fancy shmancy new (used) GameCube (Yeah, I bought it for him). Video games. They make him happy. I want to make him happy. I don't want him to think I'm some selfish cold hearted bitch. I'm anything but, anyone who knows me knows that. But I want him to see I love. I want to be loved like Dylan loved me. I want that love again. I don't want to be in the same room and only talk one hour total out of a 15 hour day. What is wrong with us? What is wrong with ME? What is wrong with Dylan? What is wrong with Adam?

I don't get it. I don't fucking understand anymore. *Pause* must check IRC, again.

No news from the darling admin of HT. I admit it, the TH/HT garble gets to me. But then again, I'm me, how could it not. Hrm, Adam's mom is doing the dishes. Yaye for dishwashers.

Like I said, Beaver. He's 27 and lives with mom.

I can't say much. I'm living with her too. Doesn't mean I like it. I hate it. I feel so god damn guilty. A million thoughts race through my head each day. Most of them I don't even understand before they're gone.

I don't even understand myself. I don't understand any of it. Who the fuck am I?

Am I bi? Am I Wiccan? Am I Christian? Am I Amanda Lee **********, mommy's little brainiac, or am I just Amanda Lee Blaine? Cynical, sarcastic, witty, smart, caring. Loved by many for her intellectual nature, great writing, great poetry, great advice. WHAT AM I? WHO AM I? I DON'T KNOW.

God help me. I need to know. I need to know what this is. Who am I. What am I. I wrote this the other day...and oh God, it fucks with me..

"I've spent my whole life, trying to measure up to the worlds expectations of me. Trying to be confident and worrying, as I'm telling people, that I don't care about what my body looks like or that I'm happy the way I am, that they won't believe me. And that they will think me immature because of it. That they will think less of me. I've been trying to be good enough for everyone else. And as I sit here, feeling music touching my very soul, and creating the art that I love, one of the few things that is truly my own, I wonder why I've never asked myself...was I living up to MY expectations of me? Am I good enough for me? The answer is no. And I realize now, that I've wasted almost 17 years trying to impress others, and in the process, alienating myself from my soul."

I don't even know what or who I am anymore. I just don't. All I feel anymore is numbness. No love. No sadness. I had a brief touch of sadness last night when Dylan and I were talking about the old us...because he found the letters I'd written him behind the fridge...all this time he thought he hadn't gotten them, but he dropped his shirt back there today, pulled it out to get it, and found the letters. God help me. They're a year and 4 months old. From 2 months before we were suppose to see eachother.

We were suppose to see eachother about a week after he left me. God help me. It still stings.

And I have what, acquantances? I barely know myself. How can any of them know me? They want to make me miss Mary Fucking Sunshine. But I'm not. They want to make my life great, it's not. I'm dark, I'm deep, I'm deppressing. I'm a fucking cutter, for Christ sakes, whatever the hell that means. Yeah, I cut myself. I don't even know why I do it sometimes. It only hurts me more later, but at the time it's fucking great. I love it. I love tasteing the blood. I love feeling the pain. It's...wonderful. It gets me out of this fucking void.

And here I am, bitching about not knowing myself, when there are kids starving, being abused, what the fuck ever. I feel guilty for that. I feel guilty for being like this when they are suffering so. But what the hell, why can't I be this way? Is it hurting anyone. Nope. Not in the least.

The only person hurting right now is me. Because I can't fucking feel. Because I have, God Help Me, turned into the Lithium girl. I can't fucking feel. I don't feel a God Damned thing anymore, hardly. I don't know what to do. I am losing my mind.

*pause* IRC. Apparently, Helen's changed. Yaye. Don't care, still don't like her.

Usually I'm one for people redeeming themselves. Not sure what to think about her.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't love Adam. I do. Somewhere, I know I do. I wouldn't spend money on him like it's nothing if I didn't. I wouldn't buy him PS2 Games, Game Cubes, Pizza, etc. if I didn't. I have never had money to really spend before, especially not alot of it to buy what I want. But, I'm willing to share with someone, that says something.

I know, money doesn't buy love. I know that. Better than anyone, trust me. My mommy seems to think because I was "spoiled" with lots of toys I had the perfect fucking child hood. Give me a God Damn Break, I didn't have a father until I was 16 for Christ sakes. I started talking to him when I was 11, but he wasn't really what I would consider a father until last summer. That's when I really started feeling something was working between us. He became more than a sperm doner.

Yaye. *sigh* But Christ....I don't know. I can't imagine living without Adam, I can't. I mean...I couldn't live without Dylan, or could I? *creepy music plays* I don't know...I like knowing I can still talk to him and such...but it seems like, for the past few months, I've pushed him so far out the door, I don't think he knows me anymore. Hell no one does. I've pushed everyone away from me. So afraid to be hurt. So afraid more will leave. Is that the reason why? I think it is. I'm not sure.

Why don't I feel Adam loves me like Dylan did? Adam waits on me hand and foot, he does whatever I ask normally. Is it because he doesn't have a pet name for me? Because he doesn't want to fuck me like a rabbit constantly? Because he doesn't whisper sweet nothings into my hear? I mean, sweet nothings...they're sweet, and they mean nothing, why should they matter? I'm not sure. They just do. I need to feel that sweet, mushy, garble, or do I? I don't know. I traded in a control freak who, God help him, was romantic, and I loved, for a "Good Guy", who isn't romantic, but treats me like a Princess, and lets me do as I wish.

Do I need controlled? Do I need told how to feel? Nah, that tore me apart. What do I need then? Do I even KNOW? Nope. Not a damn clue.

*IRC* Again.

Back. Good, Adam doesn't trust Helen either. Bleh.

Do I even trust anyone? It seems like after Dylan, I stopped trusting, stopped caring. I lost everything. I've said that so many times. But right now, I'm wondering, is that really the truth? Did I really lose everything? Is that why I am the way I am? I think so, God Help Me, I think so.

I think that's why I feel I have no future, no matter how much I pretend I'm going to college or have something waiting for me.

God Help Me, I can't even see me alone, walking into that abandoned house anymore. I don't see anything. I don't see shit. It's like it's all fucking gone. Like not a damn bit of it matters anymore. I've become my fucking mother. Nothing. Poor. Miserable. Fucking guy to guy, and when I can't get a man, yaye for vibrators.

Jesus H, what has happened to me. WHO AM I?

I don't know what to think. I don't even know who I am. I'm sitting here with glasses cleaner, glasses cloth, Pride Jewelry, and Pride stuff, an aromatherapy kit, a nifty organizer, my new books, my wristbands and bumper stickers, and what does any of it mean? More stuff to make me who I'm not? Or is this me? Will I ever know? I wish to God I did. I wish I understood who I am. I want to know so badly and I don't know how to figure it out. I don't know what to do. I need help, so badly. Go figure, I've spent most of the last week and a half in a fucking Teen Help site, and I need help, and don't ask for it.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Why am I so afraid to let people see that, God Forbid, little miss put together, I'm such a good helper, needs help?

I didn't use to be this way. I mean, I've always helped more than I've been helped, but I use to be able to ask for help....now I don't want to.

I'm ready to puke. And I'm not sure if it's because I'm sick or because I'm disgusted with myself. Probably both.

*IRC*

Nothing. Back to moi. I don't know what to think. How can I? How can anyone? I don't know. I just don't know. I can't believe I saw a Glass Frog at one of those wierd shops with no name in the mall, that was like waist high, and wanted it. And I'm an idiot for thinking it wouldn't cost an arm and a leg.

500 and some dollars. I'll never have it. It was cute. It'd have been a nice conversation piece. I want my own room. One that's completely mine, and I can design it however I see fit. I can go nuts with it.

But, that's right, I don't get my own room. I'm dating someone. Sleeping with him, literally, and, of course, sexually. No own room for me. Have to suffer with Dragon Ball Z (I like the show, don't get me wrong) posters and shit. I like the show, I just, no. I don't want fucking Goku or Trunks in MY room. It's MINE. I can probably have my own room. A library/art/reading/music room thing of my own. Yeah, that'll work. Oh, yeah, when we have our own house. *Sigh* Mom's getting us a trailer, yippy fucking skippy. Back to the boonies. NO GOD DAMN CULTURE. No more PRIDE fests, no more Gay events, no more having a right to my own opinion. *sigh* No AIDS walk, because I didn't think I'd be here for it and didn't get sponsors. It's not too late, but I've lost my ambition.

I've lost me.

I see all this shit that says live while you can. I want to live, God I want to live. But how do I live? Disobeying mommy's orders, and cashing that money order she sent me and buying a Game Cube for my boyfriend, and an aromatherapy kit I've wanted for months, a book I've wanted for weeks, and three other books I've wanted, each for 2+ years. One of which is my favorite book ever, the other two which are, psycho adolescent books for intellectuals like me.

Fuckin aye, man.

IRC. Nothing.

I don't know. Was it a good idea to blow off mommy dearest and get that shit? In my mind, yeah, I needed this.

Was it the right thing to do? Yeah, I feel like it was. I wanna go see Ani Difranco in concert, too. Would cost too much though. Wouldn't it? I'd have to spend more of the moving money because, yeah, of course, it's all we've got. And we need every penny so we can take our shit and the cat. I don't want to lose Gohan. I really like that cat. Sick, I think the cat understands me more than the man. Go figure.

But we need that. Unless Adam gets a job miraculously (yeah right) and can pitch in. Then maybe I could spend the twenty or so bucks to go see Ani. Hold that thought. I want to see how much it would cost. I want to see at least one concert before we leave. I NEED CULTURE to survive on before I hit bumfuck Egypt again.

*pause*

Jesus. I asked Adam to bring me my backpack so I could get the flyer from PRIDE for the Ani concert. He kissed me, I barely kissed him back and he said he was sorry I was upset and all that normal shit. And said I wasn't happy, and I was like "Since when I have been REALLY happy the whole time you've known me?" and he said "You haven't, but at least you seemed alright?" I said "Who said I wasn't alright?" and he said "maybe you are, but you just don't seem like your normal self". What is my normal self? Hrmm? Would he know my normal self? Is the normal me outspoken, political? A Gay Rights activist? A caring empath? what is the normal me? I sure as shit don't know. How can he?

(Ticket info is loading).

Ouch. Fuck. 61 bucks for us to go. Fuck. That sucks. Alanis is performing up here soon, too. Right before Ani, like 2 days before. This sucks. So much for that idea. *sigh*

I'm screwed. I can't do anything normal people do. I'm not normal though. God this sucks.

*sigh* I want to do something special before we go. I guess PRIDE was it, eh? Yeah. It was.

Not a bad thing. It rocked. Don't get me wrong. Just. SIGH.

Oh well. I have eyeglass cleaner, heehee. Uggh.

Alright, I'm starting to get a headache, and my wrist has not stopped hurting. I need to stop this before I make myself hate myself. That wouldn't be healthy.

Fuckin aye. I need help. I need to know what I'm suppose to do.

~Mandy

posted by Manda @ 11:30 AM+

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