Paranoid Android
I'd be lying if I didn't say that this is what I feel right now. So many misconceptions of what really is right now, as opposed to what isn't. There's a helluva lot of nosy bastards in this world, and I suppose we all are at some point. But enough is enough. I'm tired of surfing diaries, I'm tired of looking for answers when people don't want to give them. I'm not lying to myself anymore, and I'm not running from myself. I refuse to say things if I don't mean it, and I refuse to be dishonest with everything. I'm not happy right now with a lot in this life. I could go on thinking that life is just something to do, but what's the point of even doing that? I have "a lot more good in my life than I tend to recognize". Well I'm not sure who misinformed you, but tough titties. This is my life, and I think it's full of shit. The charade I've been living is nothing more than to make everyone else happy. I stopped living for me a long time ago because I didn't see a point to it. So now I'm sitting here, hoping that I can live to make others happy...now what?

I do a lot of thinking and not enough acting. I sit and sit and sit some more, thinking of everything possible, scrutinizing every problem big and small, and still come up with nothing.

The Big Problems
They're not so big. It is the mind that expands them, making it seem as if they're unbearable. But the more I sit and ponder each and every option, the more time I waste in terms of doing something about it. I'm tired of living in my mistakes. It's like sitting in a pile of shit and not picking myself up. I worry too much, like a mother worries about her children. I worry about petty things, I worry about things not even related to me...I worry. And I get nothing accomplished.

8:40 P.M.
Fucking disappointing day. I expected to see Pat, but it didn't happen. Three weeks, it's been three frickin weeks...words are meaning less and less, and maybe that's just what I believe right now, as I'm feeling not too great right. I still hurt, I'm still unhappy with what is now every last aspect of my pathetic teenage life, and I just want to fade away.

So she asks...

She's never had a boyfriend before?

No, she's never had a boyfriend before. Why would someone want a person who is as clingy as she is? Why would some boy (or girl) want someone who is so phreakin sensitive to anything, to a breath against her back or to words that were never spoken? Why would someone want another like that?

I don't know. Maybe that's why she's never had a boyfriend before.

Sometimes I feel like I've never had a boyfriend before. Just being makes me feel so naive to relationships at times that I wish I could scream silently. I know nothing, yet I know so much. I am secure in what I am, but now that I know, I really don't like what I feel. I'm still lost and lonely.

11:35 P.M.
I like having conversations with myself. Exactly what I said, with myself. They're fun, entertaining too I suppose. They are sufficient to my liking when there is no one else to talk to. I'm writing for me, sometimes for you, but mostly for me. There is nothing selfish about it, only blunt honesty.