April 27 2008

I don't know why, but I am what I detest.
Goddamned Game. I hate you. I hate you and your powers over womens' psychological responses to everything.
I will not be obsessed over Zack, because although he is amazingly intelligent, he is also arrogant and uncaring.
I will not let myself be controlled by said game, and I will win. I don't care. I'm not playing at these loggets anymore, because I'm sick of it. If he wants to go out, he'd better damn well call me. I'm not trying anymore. I'm also going to go make some potential mate friends, because the current zip that I have (save for zack, who rises in my mind like fresh yeast every fricken day) isn't working for me. I need a fawning base or my powers are useless.
AGAHAHAHA. Yes, I'm insane. Yes, I have problems, but no, I will not change. I will just stop. Gah. I hate relationships. And I'm sure I know why I need this non-serious thing. Why can't I honestly do it? I mean, seriously. Clearly Zack has no interest in doing anything but me, but man, why couldn't he just be less confusing? One second, he'll be all hardcore male who wants one thing, and the next he'll be stroking my back or my hair in a non-threatening manner and bringing to rise the likes of feelings of being protected and happy that I haven't felt since backcatcher... who ended up being a case of obsession for me... for two long, pitiful years... not including the time spent BEFORE we dated. Urgh. I'm prone to this obsession thing, aren't I? I make myself want to puke. Or bring up the subject with Zack. Or both, at the same time.
I think it's unfair, though, because I could have had Zack, except there were other things that he found more important. And then he says he was stupid for shutting us down, and then he also lists how single he wants to stay. I hate people with no purpose or ambition. I also hate me for obsessing enough to write a blog about him when there's a perfectly hot pitcher talking to me about coming to a rugby practice or a lunch, and still wondering why I'm not good enough to make Zack want me.
God, I hate being me. I hate my thought processes. I hate my constant analysis of things. I hate how I have to be different. I hate that I can't follow a trend, I hate my uncertainty (Can anyone say hamlet?), I hate my need to be brave and unfeminine in anything more than physicality, I hate my competitiveness, I hate the stress I put on myself, I hate so much, and I still hate. I hate the way I will forever try to understand why I can't just be happy with myself and be who I am and accept that I might be or not be accepted.
I hate most of what makes me individual.

Someone left out this part of growing up. How do I deal with myself when I'm in this mood? Who teaches us how to be accepting and agreeable? I think I missed that lesson. I can accept the idea that somewhere, we share the world with everything. I understand the idea that I can't comprehend nothing or everything. I can even see that I am a minute speck in the overall everything of the world and existence itself. So why do I think at all? Why not just live life a speck, if that's all I am. Is there meaning? Because I don't think that Heaven is a good enough reason. I don't believe we have meanings, because that would mean that there's fate, and I don't think that I believe in fate. So, I suppose that it means that I believe that there's something I need to do, for me, and me alone. Not even to self-actualize and bring a child into the world. I don't know if I even have interest in that. Well, not now anyways. I'm only nineteen.

I think I'm schizo. I think I might have multiple personalities. Or at very least bi-polar. I have very different sides and a good acting skill to cover what I can't pass off. I hate me. I want to give up. Sleep it is.

Good night, then. Sleep well, and don't let the bedbugs bite.
~Nifzeta