"SNAFU" 2009-08-23 - 4:59 a.m.

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I'm on fucking fire tonight. No entries for two years. Then one four months ago. Then two in one night.

It used to be: I'd get overwhelmed with emotion, I'd pick up my guitar and write a song. Now I just drink. Add that to the reasons I fucking hate myself.

But at least I don't want to slit my wrists and post on diaryland all the time anymore.

...WHOOPS!!!!

But seriously. It hasn't gotten any better. I'm, what? Five years in the future from when I posted here all the time? Was it really only three years? I've made real friends. People who like me for me; not those assholes in high-school. I've made something of myself, become a completely different person. And I still hate myself as much as ever. I guess the biggest difference is now I write it out here because I'm ashamed; not because I want all my friends to see how fucked up I am.

And the truth is the same as it's always been. Since my first entry here however many years ago: I want someone to save me. I just want some person to say: "I accept you, I'll help you."

I've never had that. Not from my parents. Not from my friends. Not from the one person who found me on here and thought they could love me. They were deeper than I was. I can't fucking save myself, how could I possibly save them? And there's no fucking way we could save eachother.

Hi Laura.

I just want to wake up one day and have the act be real. I want to actually believe in myself and be as confident as I pretend to be. I don't want my soft creamy center anymore; you can eat it out if you want.

My only redemption is Marton. He's had a better life than I've ever had; but I guess he's as fucked up as me. But he's fooling me, even though I see past it a little. And if he can only see past my act a little, then I guess we're even.

But that's why I'm typing this where he can't read it. We've got the same issues, but he's had a better life than me. I don't have any enmity towards him for it; but I just wish I could compete, you know? I wish we could at least be on the same level.

I'm rambling now, I don't care, fuck you for reading. If he passes it off that well, and I pass it off that well; but at least he's had a good life, then I guess I'm doing pretty fucking good. I just wish I wasn't passing it off. I just wish I could believe my own hype. I wish I could forget.

I don't want to die anymore, but you can't cauterize your life off up to this point; and that's what's fucking killing me. Of course it's just as bad that I don't know where I'm going. Now is all that exists, but it's so colored by the past that it's inexcusable.

I think I finally understand Donny Darko; in that I wish a plane engine would drop on my fucking head so my parents could get the life insurance.

Because otherwise there's no point to my life; just like there was no point to that movie.

I drink a lot, I'm a borderline alcoholic; but I can never seem to drink enough to just fucking let this go. I'll always be chasing that hope.

Fuck you. And fuck me worse.

sweet dreams, assholes

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