Invader_Griz wrote:How depressed I am..All my dreams reside in my journal. Dreams that would make my life worthwhile. And I title my journals, mind you. You know what this particular journal it in? The (YES, Im serious!) Journal of Impossible Things. Everything I've ever wanted, needed, actually, reside there. My life is a cold and cruel existence, death being not an option because Im not easy to kill. AT ALL. JOURNAL OF IMPOSSIBLE THINGS. *end capsabuse* My whole life revolves around a fictional Doctor who is my father, and I'm an irken/timelady 'all of both at once' werewolf thingy. I mean, I know Im a werewolf, but a year ago a friend shoved it into me, albeit for a month or two, to put being a werweolf in there. In pen, and now my faith in even that is shaking. I might even end up putting my band in there seeing as we:
1: couldnt possibly get intruments.
2: Cant think of or get decent songs.
Why cant I be easy to kill like other people, with soft twinky- like skin that can end it, not make you writhe in pain, and pull it out and patch it up and go on with life, and thats an estimate. Could be worse, but my innate knowledge lacks that information. So...Why cant I just pass on now? Oh, I dunno...line of Bad Wolves will end? Cat will beat the carp out of me in heaven when she reaches it there? Besides, she's shoved that down my throat, and im athiest. But she's really nice so I only say it to humor her. GAH, Im so foolish/stupid/crazy/pathetic....
Your songs WILL be done soon, I promise

If you don't have the instruments, I have a few. (Electric/acoustic guitar, drums, slide whistle

and stuffs) I'd do the music, too.
I'm really sorry about all the horrible stuff happening to you. I'm writing a 'journal' in my laptop in a folder titled 'READ AND DIE' so nobody would get to it. It's called The Diary of My Potatoes Life
Potatoes because potatoes = stupid. I have the worst life ever.
But CS is my emotional drain. The people here understand me, unlike my parents. My friend hates me and her mother is rude. And yet she acts like I'm her BFF. Today we were in a group to build a tower out of straws and tape, and we were upset because of the tape and we were arguing about what shape the tower should be...then her nosy mother came and said we needed to behave and SHE said, "It's not MY fault, mommy, it's -insert my name here-'s fault, I didn't do anything!" So, then, I decided not to talk to her. I didn't even do anything wrong except suggest our tower would be best with a square shape, not triangle. An hour later, we went up to this balcony thing and then she said to me ( we were at the air & space museum for a group thingy) "Can you feel this balcony shaking? It's bouncing.." I said she was probably imagining it because I didn't feel it, and she yelled at me and her mother said that it was. Then she went and said to my parents, "Tell your daughter this IS shaking!" I actually cried. I don't cry in public places.
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At lunch, we ate in our cars. I chaperoned a few girls, and then the same lady came in and wanted to take our trash from lunch. Then she said, "I can't tell what's trash and what's not in here!" In MY car, in MY sparkly shiny car.
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So the only thing keeping me happy is 1, 2, 3, 4 by the Plain White T's. It's not working much, but the song's so nice.
I'm gonna be single forever, I can't do anything right, boys treat me as one of their own instead of a girl, and the girls all hate me.