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Accelerated Evolution

I Hate Fridays


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I am pissed off because I am ill, and trying to sleep it off. But of course, my neighbors are having their roof redone, so every, UM, 2 seconds, I hear BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG right outside my effing window. I decide to wake up and try and eat something after some poor luck with the whole SLEEPING thing. So, I go to the kitchen and start to browse, one hand on my traumatized stomach. The one thing that my mother's Bible study on Thursday nights are good for is the leftovers. I reach excitedly for what I THOUGHT was some type of blueberry loaf. And I don't even really like loafs. Mostly because I hate the word. I much prefer it as an insult. ANYWAY. This beautiful loaf was prebuttered and everything, so this doubled it appeal. I take a rather LARGE bit of it, probably over half the slice (ha ha), and then once I have chewed and swallowed, I become aware that this loaf is not blueberry. It's chocolate. Chocolate makes me vomit and causes me to feel very sick. I AM ALREADY SICK, I DON'T NEED TO BE MORE SICK. I then proceed to become intensely depressed at my self-realization that if I weren't such a swine in the first place, I would not have shoved such a huge piece in my mouth, and maybe I could have realized that it was chocolate before I consumed over half of a slice.

AND HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GO OUT TONIGHT AND WATCH MY FRIENDS PLAY THEIR MUSIC IF I AM LAYING IN BED NOT ENJOYING ANY BIT OF HOW I LOOK, FEEL, AND SMELL? What if I start to feel better in a few hours, which is likely? How am I supposed to leave the house? My mother will lecture me about how if I am sick I should stay home? But this event tonight is something that I have been looking forward to since I was told about it. I really like being around these certain friends because I never see them, and they remind me of Ryan, and I really need to be around them.

And another fun note - while I am mentioning my mother. When I woke up this morning to my alarm, so that I could go to work - which I am now missing and that makes me very unimpressed - I felt absolutely horrible. I had to go upstairs and use the bathroom because their is no toilet paper down here and I am tired of wiping with... other things. ANYWAY, I come out of the bathroom, and she's there, and I tell her that I feel really sick. The first thing that she does is lecture me on my diet and other things related. OH MY. Yeah, I didn't eat so great yesterday, but not because I was eating horrible things, it was because I barely ate all day. That was only because I was extremely busy and did not have time to do so. I ate a fine dinner, probably better than whatever she ate. Point being, I WANTED COMFORT AND PITY. Arghhhhh.

Anyway, that, um, concludes the diary of a 12 year old girl experiencing pre-pubescent trauma and anxiety or some such ailment.

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Man, I feel for you.

I got some advice, dunno if it's worth a shit but here goes:

If you wanna have a good time and be with your friends, just go have at it. Don't get caught up in how you smell, look, or feel. If it might distract you from the shit at home, just do it next time.

If they are true friends they won't make fun of you, they'll admire your confidence and will to just live.

So pull out your imaginary balls, show them to the world and say "I can't care what you think, I just wanna be happy."

P.S. You're not a pig, you never will be a pig, you're a human being and you deserve to love yourself, and if you don't feel that everyone around you cares about you like that then fuck 'em. From the way your mom talks, I think she cares but she is just being a mom. My mom drives me crazy at 25 but I still love her. She's out of her mind and paranoid and gets on my nerves but we take care of each other and that is what counts.

(Did you go out anyway? I hope so, and if you did I hope you had fun.)

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