I ramble, you skip.
Today I ask you all this: can a person evaluate themselves? Can someone determine if they're sane, or are a good person? I feel mentally sick. Like, thinking-wise. I can't stop going over things I've said and wondering what I really meant, or what something really means. I never thought I'd read so deep into dreams. I remember a dream Colleen had about me and someone singing "Almost Paradise" and how I sort of took it as a sign, but inside I didn't think I believed it. And after that spell with Dan, does my dream mean something? And why with someone I despise? And what is my problem, telling people and asking advice? Why do I care so much? If you feel guilty about something, and someone tells you not to be, but you are--does that mean that you are genuinely guilty? I mean, why would you feel guilty if its not genuine and theres no reason? Are there people who are just always guilty? Like, is there some kind of mental disorder where you're guilty about everything, from dropping someone's pen on the dirty floor while you were borrowing it to something major like insurance fraud? Are there some people who are lucky enough not to even have a conscience? Are there people who are lucky enough to NOT CARE???
I'm too concerned about what people think. I've always been that way. I rarely do something just because I want to, for no reason at all. Usually I do things for attention, and if you haven't noticed that, you don't know me at all. So why do I feel the need to spill all this to you? Because I want you to care. I care too much about what other people think: I want to be wanted, I want to be known as someone who is funny, pretty, smart, talented. I try too hard and when I fall on my face I try to laugh at myself, but I just can't. I try to sound smart, with big "ten-dollar words" as Jack said once. I try to fit in by buying shoes that shouldn't cost $40, that everyone else has, and I won't settle for the "fakes" at Payless. I care about my clothes--I want to have my OWN look, to make people think I'm spunky like that, when really I'm just posing as someone else who I admire for their fashion sense. I know people see through my "politically aware" or "wordly aware" side of my persona--if you don't, you should know that half of my opinions aren't my opinions. I don't know shit about Bush, or about Kerry, or any kind of politics. I couldn't have a debate for anything. (A reason why I don't do debate or extempt.) You know before when I said "persona"? I don't know if I said that because I think its cool to say that, or if I just was too lazy to type the whole thing. You know what I hate? I hate how I always say "I'm lazy" as my excuse for everything. I hate how I feel what I have to say is important, and that I want you to read this and comment and relate to me so I don't feel like a complete idiot. I hate how I want to be the best at everything I do. I'm one of the most jealous people you'll meet, and if you don't know that, you'll soon find out. I hate how I'm a bitch to people, how I talk about them behind their backs even though they bother me and I need to vent. I hate how I say "coulda shoulda woulda" about nearly everything, and then am guilty for admitting it even to my best friends. I hate how I talk a certain way because "everyone else does" or I act a certain way because "everyone else does". I hate how I want to fit in, but stand out--a total contradiction. I hate how I have big dreams but I'm not willing to do the dirty work to get there. I hate how I have an attitude about everything. I hate that I'm a bitch to people, especially to Shaun. I hate how I can't bare the fact that some people are richer than me--money shouldn't be an issue. Why do I care? I shouldn't. I despise that about myself, and so I end up talking shit about them and making fun of them because deep down I'm jealous and I don't appreciate at those times how lucky I am to have a house, lots of clothes, money, a family, friends, a wonderful boyfriend...I hate how I hate things. And what I despise--what I loathe--are hypocrites. And that is exactly what I am. I HATE MYSELF.
Inside, I'm disgusting. I want everything and work for nothing. I expect things to happen without trying. I expect forgiveness but I don't, and the fact that I don't know what I want or what I feel torments me. Why don't I know myself? Why am I suddenly finding myself crying? Why do I suddenly know nothing about myself, the world, life at all? Why can't there be someone guiding me through everything so that I don't have to suffer my mistakes and keep thinking "I can't believe I did that". I'm sick of not knowing. I'm sick of not being able to decide. I'm sick of being tired of being sick and I'm going to quote TBS: "So sick so sick of being tired and oh so tired of being sick." And guess what?? I HATE HOW PEOPLE ARE ALL "OOH MUSIC!" because you know what? Music is great, yeah--so it speaks to you and all. But I have NOTHING in common with half the people I've met. I remember faking that I knew bands or their songs just because I wanted the other person to think I was "with it". I'm sick inside. I despise liars. I look down on people who try to fit in, who want to be "cool" and are narrow-minded. But that's me! I'M LIKE THAT.
Outside, I don't mind. Physical attributes mean nothing to me. You can be the most beautiful person on the outside, but if you're ugly on the inside, you aren't beautiful anymore. And so I've grown to be okay with how I look. I still don't like my legs, my feet, my smile, my "fat lip", my stomach...but its me and whatever. But its the inside that I thought I was supposed to be okay with. But I'm not. I hate myself for the way I treat other people, how I expect to win stuff or be loved. I don't think I deserve it, I really don't. How wonderful people have come into my life I don't know. But I'm undeserving, selfish, and bitter. Most of the time I feel horrible inside. I don't like me. I'm more self-conscious about my personality than my looks. What if people don't like me? If I didn't like Wicked, would I be as close to people as I am now? If I didn't act a certain way, would people still like me? Would I still be accepted? I feel like I've been acting my entire life. Right now, at this very moment, I can't even remember the last time I just let loose and was myself--because I don't think I really know the real me. I don't think I can identify one genuine part of myself. I want to know who I am. I want to know what I like, the purpose behind what I say and do, I want to know ME before anyone else gets the fake me. Or whatever that person is who I put out there everyday. I'm jealous of people who can say "I'm tired of faking it" because at least they KNOW they're faking it...where me, I don't know anything. I'm lost. I'm totally lost and I don't think I'm stable enough for anyone to touch. I'm radioactive. I'm a radioactive child. Like that book my mom bought. "Explosive Children" or something. I used to beat up my mom. Can you believe that? I'm awful. I hate myself. I really do.
I hate everything about me. I can't even appreciate anything. I'm just so...I hate myself. Diana, you are a horrible person. I want to just disappear. I don't deserve any of this. Its all so much better than me. I don't deserve to be alive. I'm so ungrateful. I'm only here for you, dear. If you still want me.
I'm too concerned about what people think. I've always been that way. I rarely do something just because I want to, for no reason at all. Usually I do things for attention, and if you haven't noticed that, you don't know me at all. So why do I feel the need to spill all this to you? Because I want you to care. I care too much about what other people think: I want to be wanted, I want to be known as someone who is funny, pretty, smart, talented. I try too hard and when I fall on my face I try to laugh at myself, but I just can't. I try to sound smart, with big "ten-dollar words" as Jack said once. I try to fit in by buying shoes that shouldn't cost $40, that everyone else has, and I won't settle for the "fakes" at Payless. I care about my clothes--I want to have my OWN look, to make people think I'm spunky like that, when really I'm just posing as someone else who I admire for their fashion sense. I know people see through my "politically aware" or "wordly aware" side of my persona--if you don't, you should know that half of my opinions aren't my opinions. I don't know shit about Bush, or about Kerry, or any kind of politics. I couldn't have a debate for anything. (A reason why I don't do debate or extempt.) You know before when I said "persona"? I don't know if I said that because I think its cool to say that, or if I just was too lazy to type the whole thing. You know what I hate? I hate how I always say "I'm lazy" as my excuse for everything. I hate how I feel what I have to say is important, and that I want you to read this and comment and relate to me so I don't feel like a complete idiot. I hate how I want to be the best at everything I do. I'm one of the most jealous people you'll meet, and if you don't know that, you'll soon find out. I hate how I'm a bitch to people, how I talk about them behind their backs even though they bother me and I need to vent. I hate how I say "coulda shoulda woulda" about nearly everything, and then am guilty for admitting it even to my best friends. I hate how I talk a certain way because "everyone else does" or I act a certain way because "everyone else does". I hate how I want to fit in, but stand out--a total contradiction. I hate how I have big dreams but I'm not willing to do the dirty work to get there. I hate how I have an attitude about everything. I hate that I'm a bitch to people, especially to Shaun. I hate how I can't bare the fact that some people are richer than me--money shouldn't be an issue. Why do I care? I shouldn't. I despise that about myself, and so I end up talking shit about them and making fun of them because deep down I'm jealous and I don't appreciate at those times how lucky I am to have a house, lots of clothes, money, a family, friends, a wonderful boyfriend...I hate how I hate things. And what I despise--what I loathe--are hypocrites. And that is exactly what I am. I HATE MYSELF.
Inside, I'm disgusting. I want everything and work for nothing. I expect things to happen without trying. I expect forgiveness but I don't, and the fact that I don't know what I want or what I feel torments me. Why don't I know myself? Why am I suddenly finding myself crying? Why do I suddenly know nothing about myself, the world, life at all? Why can't there be someone guiding me through everything so that I don't have to suffer my mistakes and keep thinking "I can't believe I did that". I'm sick of not knowing. I'm sick of not being able to decide. I'm sick of being tired of being sick and I'm going to quote TBS: "So sick so sick of being tired and oh so tired of being sick." And guess what?? I HATE HOW PEOPLE ARE ALL "OOH MUSIC!" because you know what? Music is great, yeah--so it speaks to you and all. But I have NOTHING in common with half the people I've met. I remember faking that I knew bands or their songs just because I wanted the other person to think I was "with it". I'm sick inside. I despise liars. I look down on people who try to fit in, who want to be "cool" and are narrow-minded. But that's me! I'M LIKE THAT.
Outside, I don't mind. Physical attributes mean nothing to me. You can be the most beautiful person on the outside, but if you're ugly on the inside, you aren't beautiful anymore. And so I've grown to be okay with how I look. I still don't like my legs, my feet, my smile, my "fat lip", my stomach...but its me and whatever. But its the inside that I thought I was supposed to be okay with. But I'm not. I hate myself for the way I treat other people, how I expect to win stuff or be loved. I don't think I deserve it, I really don't. How wonderful people have come into my life I don't know. But I'm undeserving, selfish, and bitter. Most of the time I feel horrible inside. I don't like me. I'm more self-conscious about my personality than my looks. What if people don't like me? If I didn't like Wicked, would I be as close to people as I am now? If I didn't act a certain way, would people still like me? Would I still be accepted? I feel like I've been acting my entire life. Right now, at this very moment, I can't even remember the last time I just let loose and was myself--because I don't think I really know the real me. I don't think I can identify one genuine part of myself. I want to know who I am. I want to know what I like, the purpose behind what I say and do, I want to know ME before anyone else gets the fake me. Or whatever that person is who I put out there everyday. I'm jealous of people who can say "I'm tired of faking it" because at least they KNOW they're faking it...where me, I don't know anything. I'm lost. I'm totally lost and I don't think I'm stable enough for anyone to touch. I'm radioactive. I'm a radioactive child. Like that book my mom bought. "Explosive Children" or something. I used to beat up my mom. Can you believe that? I'm awful. I hate myself. I really do.
I hate everything about me. I can't even appreciate anything. I'm just so...I hate myself. Diana, you are a horrible person. I want to just disappear. I don't deserve any of this. Its all so much better than me. I don't deserve to be alive. I'm so ungrateful. I'm only here for you, dear. If you still want me.