Disposable

Wednesday 2; June, 1999

email ` gbook ` i-seek-you ` handwriting

“Depressing teenagers is like shooting fish in a barrel” – Bart Simpson

The Homerpollooza one was on tonight; that’s so my favourite episode.

I’m kinda numb today. I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. Well, that’s not strictly true. I made it as far as the bathroom before deciding that I really couldn’t face going in the rain to my class. I went back to bed instead.

I went in to my radio class in the afternoon though, feeling kinda hollow and nauseous. Like, I didn’t eat at home because the thought of it made me sick, but then because I was so hungry I got more nauseous. Not cool. But I couldn’t be bothered eating either.

Radio was kinda cool – and now I’m wondering if I should maybe try to major in it next year. It sounds choice. And multimedia? I’m scared I might end up as some hidi geek. Multimedia takes up to 30 people so it’d be easier to get into, because Radio only takes 16. But I’m doing well so far in radio – I think. Couldya couldya couldya please tell me what you think?

There, see, I’ve asked for help. For once. I can’t do that lately very much. I’ve kinda withdrawn from everyone. There are people I should call, or write to, and I just can’t. I don’t know why. Somehow I’m incapable of reaching out. I mean, I know that they’re ‘there for me’ if I need them – but what does ‘there for’ really mean? That they’ll listen if I talk? I can’t talk. I don’t know what to say. I can’t explain my life.

Arrrrgggggggggggggh I’m so teenangst now and I hate that. I don’t WANT to be depressed. Okay, so no one does, I know that. I mean, I don’t want this journal to be some chronical of a downward spiral or something like that. Because I’m not like that. Not usually anyways. Just the past week or so.

Those of you that know me well would probably put the blame at one thing, but it’s not him. I’ll admit that I’m not overjoyed at what’s going on (or not) right now, but that can’t be all that’s bringing me down. I mean, I’m totally apathetic to like very facet of everyday life right now. The guy at Shell thought I was stoned when I went to buy chocolate there (it didn’t work) because I was so spaced out, and he was just totally hassling me about the munchies – I was like “um”. I walked down the median strip of Great South Road all the way home, because it felt nice to have traffic rushing on either side of me. It’s better than lying in bed feeling unable to move.

I just wish that…. oh fuck, I don’t know what I think right now. I just need this to stop.

Sorry. Tomorrow’s entry will be happier. I hope. And don’t worry about me, please. No, really – I’m not doing myself any permanent damage or anything. It’s okay.

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