| I feel cold and heartless. Since I got home from summer orchestra, all I've been allowing myself to do is snap at my parents and mentally growl at social interaction. I'm an impatient person, and I hate it when I have to be asked things more than once. Perhaps I should be more forgiving. I hate it when people burst in on my life, childishly suspecting that I give the slightest sliver of a shit. There's something to be said for warmth and friendliness without being asked, but one could easily figure out that I'm not usually looking for that stupid, happy joke or story to make my day. As I sit here eating my PEZ, I can't help but remember that I really don't care anymore. Sure, now it's the summer and I don't have to worry about grades. No one will ever fully realize how much of a relief that is. Still yet, I have to care enough to drag my butt out of bed every Tuesday and Thursday to help the sixth graders at Clay and then go to summer orchestra at the high school later in the day. Though I love playing the cello, I don't want to think right now, and I'm being forced to alter my routine within my musical world. I hate having to change instructors. I love Dave, and I'm just being too stubborn to think that any other instructor will do. I'll admit, I hate change. I hate plastering on a smile just so I won't have to say once again, "I'm tired," when my parents ask me what's wrong. I hate it that Alec still treats me like I have leprosy. Is friendship really that difficult of a request? I hate it that it seems like Pam doesn't give a shit about anything besides what she's doing. (What the hell am I talking about? It's not like I give a flying rat's ass about much...) I hate paranoia, and I hate my own paranoia. Paranoia gives nothing but trouble and disorder, and though it may not seem like it, I like my life very orderly and fulfilled. I really like Our Lady Peace, especially Happiness Is Not a Fish That You Can Catch. I hate being impatient. I hate wanting to be held. I hate moving around my kitchen with no purpose as my dad tries to chat with me in a friendly manner. No, I don't want to go the Violin Shop. No, I don't want to play my cello. I don't want to eat. I STILL don't want to play my cello. I'm tired of human compassion. Though I'm not suicidal, I really don't think that trying to save a suicidial person is any less selfish than keeping grown children scared of moving out for the sake of one's own loneliness. If the person is in that much pain, then they obviously don't care enough to stay here. Keeping them alive is only saving one's self from pain. I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of being stubborn. I'm tired of people who fear things they don't understand. I'M tired of fearing things I don't understand. I'm tired of spirituality. I'm tired of people trying to save me. Maybe I don't want to be saved! Did you think of that?! I'm tired of being lustful. I'm tired of feeling hypocritical. I'm tired of feeling like a whore. I'm tired of being second best. I got a 4.0 this grading period, but who cares? It doesn't matter, because it's the only one I'll ever get. What, am I going to stash away that report card like a Depression survivor and show my grandchildren? I'm going to go through high school and most likely get into a state college. No big hat, right? Why am I doing that? To take the place of my parents, as Fritze put it. Great. I'll be just like everyone else. I'll have some great world-altering dreams in high school and college. My head will be in the clouds with supposed love and Bohemian ideas. Then I'll realize I was being silly and finally "settle down" into the adult life that I know is expected of me. Perhaps I'll find myself loving someone enough to marry them, but is marriage really necessary? Is breeding really necessary? Does birthing a child really add something to my life? Do I really care enough about what people think of me to think about sex before marriage? What about an abortion? How about I just throw everything away and become a stoned whore? I wouldn't have to care then. Oh, the occassional run in with the law...whoopdeedoo. I'd just have to face the disappointed faces of my family members. I'd have to look in the mirror every now and then and realize, while I'm not stoned, that I just, but society's terms, threw my life away. But did I? I had a good time, didn't I? I enjoyed life, and that's more than could be said for most. It could be argued that I could enjoy life through alternative mediums. I wouldn't really know, for if I did, I don't really think I'd be wasting my time typing up this dreary little piece of rageful text. |