Just letting you all know I'm alive.
Busy working at Borders. Quitting Sunrise CInemas soon hopefully.
I'm sick of being an inferior.
Friends are great. Kyle didn't stop being friends with me after Joey went back to O-town like I thought he would.
Relationship is...ok....could be better, but I'm not asking for much anymore.
It has its days.
So I log onto Myspace today and Kyle left me a message that said he wasn't really sure what to say or how to say it, but he would like to hang out again sometime. He said if I agree to just message him back, so I told him sure. He didn't apologize for abandoning me for so long as a friend, which isn't what I wanted. I just wanted to know he didn't forget about me.
Also, I've come to the conclusion that barista-ing sucks. It's fun. It's great. You make a ton of money. But I spill things. However, working at Borders is awesome so I'll just keep trying until I don't fuck up anymore. The staff and managers are all really nice and make you feel like you've been working there for a while.
I'm still in love with Chris, though, and I came to the conclusion that I hate being in love. Should I ever fall in love again, I will lock myself in my room and stab the wall with an ice pick.
I thought about doing unmentionable things today, but then I thought I'm better than that. Of course, it took talking to Vicky cuz the person I wanted to talk to made it perfectly obvious that they don't care if something horrible happens to me.
Nothing hurts more than walking out on a person to turn around see they've shut the garage door and gone inside...
Just to clear things up, I think my hatred of Mr. Kyle G has actually surpassed my hatred for Ashley Morgan. I think they should be put in a room together where they are both denied of drugs and alcohol. Along with some other people that I don't really HATE but strongly dislike to the point where them being deprived of the only resources they ever take in would be gone.
I don't know if he compared ME to a taco per se. But something about love being like a taco. Once it's there, it's gone, and then you eat another taco. I'M NOT A FUCKING TACO! I HATE TACOS!! At least compare me to a pizza. Or a latte. A fucking taco??!! I know, I need to get over myself. LoL. I could only hope to have once been a taco.
Hmm...Chris is cool though. It just sucks to think about the future and know that in 5 years from now things may or may not work out.
Who knows what I want when I'm older? Nothing pisses me off then when I'm talking to my shrink or my mom and they say something retarded like "you're not getting any younger". That pisses me off. Almost as much as the time when my shrink was like "Have you ever thought about quitting pot and not spending your weekends getting 'shitfaced'?" Yes, because I'm going to wake up one morning and say "hmm...let me quit all my vices". There was a time when I loved going to therapy, now it's become a chore. I've cut off psychiatric and by working all the time I'm hoping to cut out psychoanalysis too.
I don't cut myself. I quit doing drugs. I don't fuck the first guy that smiles at me. I don't have mood swings. Everything the therapist says goes in one ear and out the other. So Fuck it. I'm just not going to go anymore.
Plus, I like working 2 jobs. It distracts me.
Time for another check-in.
I still work at the theatre on the side, but now I work at Borders too. I start bookseller training on Monday at 6. Then a week or so after that, they move me into the cafe` where I get to serve yuppies beverages. Not bad, not bad. I'm excited.
I left school. Finding a second job to feed the family took precedence over my last semester. I'm trying to go back in January.
I realized the other day that I am, indeed, really really mad at Kyle. I wrote him a note on Myspace detailing this, and he read it, but didn't care. That's a shocker *rolls eyes*.
I made a new friend at Starbucks named Frank. He's 29 and really hot. I met him a few months back when I was still dating Chris. I told him I had a boyfriend that wouldn't like me going to Projekt Revolution with some other guy, so he gave me his phone number anyway. A couple of weeks ago he visited me at work cuz he was watching a movie with his friend. We talked for a few. I didn't give him my number. Then he showed up at Starbucks later that week when I was with Anna and we talked, I gave him my number, and have been hanging out with him as friends. He's hot, but he's really more like that older guy you turn to when you need someone to talk to. He's pretty awesome. Made it on to my good side. Still, I like him only as a friend.
I'm just letting everyone out there in LJ land know that I am still alive. Life isn't going too good, but not TOO bad. If I were to post like I used to, I would have one of those annoying LJs with sayings of how I just want to be held, and all that lame depressing crap that annoys me. I don't want to point any elbows or anything. I fucked up my life, yes. I chose to smoke pot, pop x, and drink, which resulted in the frying of my brain. It's my fault, but whatever. Who cares now. It's just getting life back on track that's difficult. I lost my job at the Pita Pit. I still work at the theatre, of course. I no longer care, though. Everything's just wahtever. As the song states, I get by with a little help from my friends.
one day johnny was walking through the park after a football game where he met some bitch named trixie.
trixie and johnny went back into their apartment and watched some lame movie.
johnny fucked trixie in every way, shape, and form imaginable until all of the holes in trixie's body were as wide as christina aguilera's vaj.
then a fierce angry killer came in and stabbed johnny and fucked trixie. trixie moaned and moaned and came on his face. he licked the cum off and kissed her on the mouth with her vaj juice.
her vaj juice was infected with some weird insane disease that caused maggots to eat her alive.
the killer was immune, as he has fucked many girls with this disorder before.
if u really hate it when people post long, depressing chain letters on lj without a cut, repost this.
So today was my second day as a Pita Pit employee.
I dropped Philly Cheese Steak Extreme or whatever it's called on the floor.
A stripper yelled at me for putting oil on her chicken breast in order to make it cook faster.
I got complemented on my skills towards rolling a wheat pita, though. Those things break quite easily, apparently.
On a side note:
I tried so hard to hate you, but it only made things worse.
I only end up hating myself.
And as my hatred grows, so do the lies.
It's hard to face the truth sometimes.
God I feel so useless.
I get this way when I try to get over you.
I get this way...will I ever get over you?
How come I let myself get so bent out of shape over a fling?
I finally understand LG FUAD.
I did something bad. Something awful. I might be leading someone on, but I'm not sure cuz I don't know what I want. I have no idea. I'm so lost. I wish I would die. That's why I wrote down the lyrics to that song. I just don't want to hurt anyone, except maybe myself.