Monday, 10 November 2008

Horrible

The things that hurt most in no particular order:

She's got her head screwed on, she has

about bee from my mother. And I haven't. Has she? Scatty B. Whose parents can pay for her career, who didn't say things in the tone my mother said them.

You haven't thought about this

And a series of assailants on my dreams that tangle up the fine thread till I can't merge back through it.

Your dad was distraught last night after you said that about the tape

Why does what I think about a bloody tape matter so much, why is he so sensitive about a half-joke, why does he think I'm this complete and utter snob, why am I not allowed to express myself in exactly the same way that he does?

I know you aren't happy. You keep picking your chin.

I am happy. I'm not overflowing with joy but I'm reasonable. I'm anxious because people shit on my plans all the time. Parents shit on my plans all the time, to be more specific. And added to this insult, you're not happy and that is your fault for doing the WRONG DEGREE and your fault and your fault (the implicit statement added by me, I feel it, I feel the waste of money and time and effort and how disappointed they must be in me). And then there's also- you're picking your face. You are becoming ugly.

I hate it when they nag me because I know they are right. I wish they'd just back the hell off and let me have a little area of my life that noone intruded into. Now they're in it I want to prove them wrong by letting other people in who think it's OK- I thought Bee thought it was OK and now I'm not sure. Maybe she thinks I'm as stupid as Mum and Dad do. I hate it when people pity me, and people frequently do. Mum did all of tonight. She pressed her lips into this line and her eyes had a sad look, like they do when she sees a fat or homeless person, both of which I will surely become in her world. I hate it. I hate being a source of worry and disappointment and pity. Why can't I be happy and reasonable? Why did my argument consist of just backing down? And hers just upped the throttle. It wasn't a throttle. It's just because they care, but caring means they're destroying my dreams and making it impossible... to think about acting without thinking about them saying you can't you can't you can't and when people say it I can't say I can. It's not my life. It's theirs. And I want it to be mine.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to.

I am unrealistic and cruel and flaky and 'I thought we'd brought you up better than to be unreliable'. And I want to weep because it's all true, and now I'm just going to sink into a pit of my own despair as usual.

You haven't thought properly.

About drama school, about financing it, about WHAT HAPPENS AFTER AND MAYBE NEVER OWNING MY OWN PROPERTY (I'd rather have a job I like but the parents are sure this will change), about how much it will cost per week to live there and where it comes from.

In my head, I was going to work this year, maybe sell some illustrations, and use that money to pay fees. I'd have a further few thousand saved for rent, and a day job to pay for food.

But I don't know how many thousands are saved. And I don't know how much student debt I'm in. And I don't know how much it will cost to live where I want to go.

I am irresponsible and flaky.

I am. I am probably going to let someone down. Why isn't it OK for me to let someone down? And I only took the goddamn thing because the parents wanted me to so much.

I am not happy, after they financed me through a degree.

What did they expect? A degree then immediate joy when I have a shit job and nothing to look forward to except courses next year that they shit all over?


Why can't they just let me be. I'd be so much happier about researching things if they weren't breathing down my shoulder.

I'm cruel because I disdained a tape my dad offered. For god's sake, he's judgemental enough about our music and tv and we don't take it as if he's constantly putting us down. People always think they're sensitive and then are utterly insensitive to others.

I had made the best of a bad day. I was happy at half past eight. Now I just feel....

Like I don't deserve anything good to happen to me, and I am cruel and snobbish and disdainful though I thought I wasn't, and I don't know where I'm going and I'm not worth it because I've wasted a degree and who cares? Who on earth actually cares how I feel, and can show it in the right way?

Tuesday, 4 November 2008

Couldn't stop contemplating you

Ugh, it's what gets me through my job, little fantasies. I get tired because my job is all filing and no thinking, and that means that I let my mind drift.

I let my mind drift to a comfortable bed and your arms opening and mine too, where we're both crumpled and curled into each other with supine spines. Silent or talking slow and soporific, this is where I am most weekdays 9-5.

Sunday, 2 November 2008

I want to be thinner because

I want to be good enough for them, and not to embarrass myself around them.

When I have short hair I feel more efficient, and a similar feeling comes from being thinner.

A horrible spiteful bit of me thinks, you want me to give up sugar Mum? Screw your halfhearted hints and your worry about how others are judging me. I'll look like a skeleton and then let's see.

Of course, the logical reaction would be to gorge myself stupid.

I won't have to throw out my clothes.

I'll feel more confident.

I'll move freer.

I'll have some control over something.

Here's what I'm going to do.

Be thin.

I will do this by:

Eating more vegetables and soups.

Walking more or exercising more.

Drawing more.

Sleeping more.

And then I will suddenly be a size 8-10 (England).

Tired triskaidekaphobe types.

Always the same, repetitive narcissist. You'd think I'd get bored.

I'd like

To wrap up cosy with you.

To take your hand watching fireworks.

To make you a set of songs that remind me of you. Pretty by the Cranberries would be one of the first.

To waltz with you in a bedroom.

To sit facing each other like book ends and touch your neck.

To have you accompany me on late night walks. Usually I hate anyone except me being there. But I would like you being there.

I want to let you into my little world and have you let me into yours.