mood: incredulous
music: Don’t Trust Me – 3Oh!3

don’t trust a ho, never trust a ho

I never let go because it feels like they never do.

mood: resigned
music: Stop – Matchbox Twenty

yes, it’s true that i believe
i’m weaker than i used to be
i wear my heart out on my sleeve
and i forget the rest of me

you’d better stop
’cause i’ve had enough
and i’m ready to forget the reasons
keeping me here

Mark asks, “Are you okay?” and Jayne promises to call me instead of doing her paper. What do I say? What is there to explain? No, I’m not okay. I haven’t been for the past six weeks. The only difference is that now I’m used to being miserable and lonely. I’m used to the horrible weather, I’m used to the food (but I still refuse to eat at the dining commons), I’m used to walking to class alone, I’m used to eating alone, I’m used to only knowing three people who live on my floor (two of which are my roommates, and none of who want to hang out with me). I’m used to being kicked out into the lounge every night, I’m used to only being able to use my speakers when my roommates aren’t in the room (not often). I’m used to never getting to dance, never getting to joke around with friends, never having any wild or fun stories to talk or think about. I’m used to not being able to sing to my music, I’m used to not being able to talk on the phone in the room. I’m used to only having water to drink and only instant noodles to cook. I’m used to navigating in the dark when I return to my room late at night. I’m even used to crying every week.

But being used to things doesn’t make them any better. It just makes it easier to mask my unhappiness.

There isn’t much to say, other than “I want to go home”.

Well. It could be worse, I guess. It could be senior year. At least, if I don’t have friends, they can’t feud.

…

I never thought that I’d have to use that time of my life as something to cheer me up.

I’ve said it a thousand times, and I’ll say it again:

This Jayne-Mark shit is fucking stupid.

FUCKING STUPID I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT FUCK YOU BOTH OF YOU

Mark says it’s bad to suppress bad feelings, but… Sometimes you can’t go on living your life if you don’t do it.

They still don’t understand.

They’re done, but I still get sad, and mad, and I still cry in frustration.

The story’s ended, but I can’t put the damn book down.

I dreamt that college was hell.