dead internet
<< 12:37 a.m. - Monday, Dec. 23, 2002 >>
So. She�s shut me out. Cut me up. I�m disconnected and hating it. White light that shot through wires has suddenly ceased, Damn her! At the moment when I finally have time to talk to people and connect she�s decided I need to concentrate. I no longer have speakers or an internet connection. I�m stuck using my dad�s computer in the freezing basement and the crappy keyboard. Damning the world for the state I�m in. The internet will not be back till my b-day (Jan 24). No one to read my thoughts. I�m stuck in a black bound journal with pages that are too thin.

The woman�s face is full. Her heart is empty. A room of joined hearts while hers is detached ripped from its bonds. She sits alone, her hair covering hr face. - I don�t know why I continue to draw these haunting faces. They call to me. All the negative feelings I�ve ever had come pouring fourth into the blackish water. Mrs. Vanloon thinks I�m depressed. She doesn�t understand. No one seems to at the present juncture. I�m tired of trying to explain. Tired of looking for understanding and finding hostile faces. I cancel plans and shrink into my room. Eep!

But I will not b a victim like my mother. I will not cry about how the world tortures me so. Its does not. I�ve heard that your feeling reflect into the world around you. She always blames me. It�s not so cool being an only child. It�s always my fault, my hormones, and my dad�s genes. Anything I say against her is like stabbing a statue of ash. It just crumbles and sprays into my eyes, rendering me blind.

I just feel so tired. So drained. I�m keeping up appearances as best I can, but it�s never enough. I like to be alone a lot. It�s hard to be friends with me. But I�ve already said that several times but never changed. I don�t want to. Talk is cheap. I don�t know how to communicate with anyone now. I rarely use the phone. Hmmmm�. Call me? I�ll pick up the phone this time�