It's so ******** hopeless. What the hell was wrong with me? Thinking... It's pathetic even to think about. And there are so many things I just want to whine about that I never get to, that I never let myself because I'm afraid no one will want to just listen. What's the point of smiling when you know it's the only reason they want to be around you? But I shouldn't complain, thats not a problem anymore. I've moved away from all the friends that I could say I might have done that to.
And others things, and everything!
And this silly love that I have that will never come to fruition. I'm such an idiot... how could I think that anything would ever really happen? That he would be as tangible for me as I've wanted to be for him! And I want to just lie down and press my head against the clean white marble, and close my eyes... and know that the gloom is coming in all around me because it's three in the morning.
But thats the worst thing isn't it?
There is no marble here, and no colleague who knows far more about westerns then I do, and no perverse, wonderful girl who's head might tilt quizzically at a new statement. And there is no boy to hate and love to be around, and no D&D nerd to sit around after school with, just talking about anything that pops into our heads. And there is no curly haired boy with the whorey girlfriend to secretly want to usurp so that you might be the only California Bulbasaur. And there is no Spanish teacher to run into at the local coffee shop, so that you find it's an hour later and you've been babbling about interesting things. And there is no foundation here that will make it so that I /don't/ care that I'll never meet the boy I'm totally crazy about...
And that we will never have a german shepherd, or a pretty white house by the sea, with the sweet green grass and the billowing white curtains, and the light-house in the distance... and we will never live our dreams. And I will someday sit before a patient in need of emotional treatment, and wonder why I am not in a far off country bending over a child in need, or in that house by the sea just writing.
I'm so annoyed, because boys don't understand girls at all, and they don't know how foolish they are half the time. But I know that women can be stingingly cruel, and that I'd rather take my chances with a boy who might think I'm mentally funky for taking things seriously, because I've still got those shreds of gullibility pulsing through my veins.
What an idiot I am.
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Andie's Journal
I'm putting my drawings here. And my depressive drivel too. What's a journal without that eh? :3
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