story

i want to write a story. a story about a girl who is stuck in a place and doesn't know how to get out, trapped under a million feelings she wishes she didn't feel. this girl prays for apathy. she feels and feels and hurts and hurts until theres nothing left to feel, the intensity is gone. she can't feel pleasure or pain, its like "comfortably numb" by pink floyd, but not so comfortable, not at all. she's afraid of that which is going to happen, too afraid to ask for help, or tell more than people she already knows can't really help. i want to write a story, but i've lost any confidence in any talent that a few people once said i possessed. i have no contact with those who believed in me, then again i don't think i ever really believed them, except maybe paulie paul, when he told me i rocked in front of everyone else in the class, but it doesn't matter anymore, i can't write anything without passion, and i don't think i have that about anything at all. my mother thinks i'm regressing, because i laid on her couch for a week watching cartoons with my teddy bear. it felt almost safe. there's a lot of bitterness i have towards that apartment, the place i grew up, and i make a lot of awful stabbing remarks to my mother every chance i get, i know its wrong, but i do it anyway, because i'm still hurt. i'm spysweeping my computer, because i found the software, i'm still looking for my flashdrive, which i can't seem to find. i haven't seen it since may, i have no idea where it could be at this point, except that i'm pretty sure the dog could not have digested it. my phone will be shut off by the end of the night, i got a text message last night telling me that, i hate how they send those at 4am, it always wakes me up. the fact that i don't really care that its getting shut off is sad, i didn't even ask my dad for the money this time, i know i don't deserve it. what do i need a cell phone for anyway, except maybe to talk to erik, but i can use my dads phone to call him, if i ever feel like talking to anyone again. i'm getting closer to halfway through atlas shrugged, i spent all morning reading after i saw on sandy deering's away message that she was 800 pages away from finishing it, it made me feel good that i was farther than that. of course harry potter will come out before i actually finish, so i'll put it on hold while i devour that for the three days or so that it will take me. i'm at this low where i've leveled out, and i really don't feel like crying, at least not at this second, i'm sure it will come again at some point, i just wish i'd run out of tears already. i think this is the longest post i've made in a long time, perhaps the longest i've made since i moved here from xanga, maybe i'll start posting more. i wrote a lot of the real deep down stuff in my note book last night, after my stepmother decided to kick me when i was down and drop my self esteem level farther below sea level than it already was. i don't really care about what she says, i know whatever she says to me is just projecting her own issues onto me, it affected me at that moment, but now that i look back, i really don't give a damn what she says to try and hurt me, i have enough hurt already that i can completely disregard hers. anyway, i think i'm done for the moment with my crap.