How I love to push my nose deep into a book and be consumed by a world other than my own. With its harsh and cruel ways, burning ashes in the wounds it has lashed with entangling whips. To escape into this wondrous fantasy land with troubles and fears that are all fixed in the end, makes my heart twinge with longing to be in a fictional book. Alas, when my head clears from my books and focuses on real life, my heart is broken. The book I'm reading right now, the girl is juggling three boys. Well two boys and a man, but anyways, her story of love and chaos excites me and I want something like that myself. Not exactly be cheating with three different guys, but to be wanted by so many people and have an interesting life. Then I stand back and look at my own and realize I'm not wanted by anybody, my life is dull, I won't have a happy ending, my life is not the life of a fictional book.
Why am I not like all the other girls, or anybody my age. They all go out and drink for fun, cruise and sing really loud in the car with their friends. Make out, have sex, cut loose. Not I. I stay enclosed in my house, not because I fear to enjoy myself, but simply because I do not find joy in the things people my age do. Drinking, I find it a lack of character. No sense to drinking whatsoever to me. Drugs follow under the same thing. Making out, having sex, I really need to leave this town before I find anyone I would want to share something like that with. Cruising and singing really loud in a car with all my friends, well since I don't drink or I'm not a slut, my "friends" don't really want to hang out with me. So, I live my life on here. The internet. Where sadly, is the place where I find my real friends. I know how pathetic that sounds, but I have found so many more people with better characters on the internet than in real life. Granted, I don't truly know them, but I have probably conversed with my online friends more than any of my friends I know face to face in my entire life. You may call my life sad and pathetic, but I find it to be a bit of a sanctuary until I find my way out of this town. Don't ever let me come back. Please I beg you all. I don't know who "you all" are, but please.
My family... which consists of just my father and I, have hit a financial crisis. We simply can't afford to live. We've cut down most of our bills, I mean we can cut the Satellite out of our lives, and we could get cheaper cell phones, but other than those two bills, everything else is essential. It's all medical or gas/lighting and what not bills. How is one expected to live when one such as my father is making an amazing amount of money, yet we still don't cut it. Our house, has no food in it. Every time I open the pantry or fridge, I feel like weeping because we are so poor right now, we can't even afford to feed ourselves. I've been having nightmares lately. Usually I love my nightmares because they're like horror movies with 4-D action, but these nightmares aren't like most. They're of my father and I barely scraping by then losing it all and living in boxes or shelters. I can't count the times I have woken up sobbing and holding myself within the past few weeks. I figured once track was over, my schedule would thin out and I'll be able to calm down a bit. Not at all.
I'm going to New Mexico this Friday, I got the time off from work, but when I return, I'll be at full speed again with work. The weekend after that, Kylie really wants me to go to her graduation in Oregon. I can't take two consecutive weekends off of work, can I? I want to quit so badly, but with Angie's mother in the hospital like she is, I can't add any more stress to her life. I'm not one to allow my burdens on to someone else.
Then today, my teacher called my book I turned in to her a health hazard because of the blood I put on it. Oh... psh. I have the cleanest blood anyone in our school can claim to have. I have blood tests every month for 5 hours where they draw my blood every half hour. Sure it's slightly disgusting, but she didn't have to touch the blood drops if she didn't want to. Then she said my pictures I drew were to gory. I asked her if it was okay if I made a zombie book. Did she really expect rainbows and butterflies? I don't like when people call my work names of sorts or find it unacceptable. It really pissed me off.
I don't know what it is right now either, I'm snapping at my father. He doesn't deserve this. I'm sorry, but the way he says my name as if I'm not listening or that I'm in trouble when I hadn't done anything annoys the piss out of me. He keeps asking me what's wrong, and I truly don't know. I just want to curl up into a small ball and sleep for a very long time. Wow... this came out a lot more emotionfilled that I really wanted, but I don't feel like erasing this. Maybe I can let my non-readers know of my true inner feelings.
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