You gave me hyacinths first a year ago. They called me the hyacinth girl.

currently listening to: "no booty calls" by kelly

i was just crying on the phone to my mom, then i remembered today the new kelly video was out. i watched it and now i feel considerably better.

i was crying about a couple of things, despite the fact that i've had a wonderful wonderful past few days. clare came up for a badass visit and there was super-harmonious chillage between she, elisa, kara and i. i saw akasha, lexi and amanda (lexi and amanda are speaking again, after an art show reunion [read: impossibly emotionally heated and dramatic, but ultimately most satisfying]) a ton. jimmy and i have been great with one another. that's all good.

but i am having persistent rotten luck at finding a job (I AM STILL TRYING) and the other day, i was alerted that a friend of mine was in the hospital. being the concerned character that i am, i txt'd him and asked if he'd let me know if he was all right. he happened to respond a few days later with the explanation that I was the impetus behind his decision to attempt suicide. so when i'm not feeling like i'm going to scream or throw up, i'm going to compose a proper email and tell him, in much coarser language, "fredo, you're nothing to me now. you're not a brother, you're not a friend. i don't want to know you or what you do. i don't want to see you at the hotels, i don't want you near my house. when you see our mother, i want to know a day in advance so i won't be there, you understand". fuck off, buddy. for good.

i sat around at school with that really weighing on me, and then the minute i got home my sister made a completely uncalled for dig at my appearance. she does not understand how much it hurts when she does that. i don't let her know every time one of my friends says something about the way she dresses (every time she leaves the room, someone says something - my sister wears formless, hulking sweatshirts, knee-length mesh shorts, socks and adidas sandals - EVERY DAY). i never comment on her appearance. i don't care how she dresses. she and i are different people.

but she can never let anything i do go. the way i dress, the way i speak to my friends, what activities i choose to participate in, my interests. she likes sports and musicals. whatever. i hate them. whatever, i'm not her and i don't hang out with her. but she continuously shoves her bullshit interests in my face like i SHOULD like it and i HAVE TO. for YEARS AND YEARS i couldn't listen to music out loud without someone stamping in and freaking out about it and FUCKING HEAVEN FORBID I WANT TO LISTEN TO SOMETHING IN THE FUCKING CAR. i am wearing a plain black shirt and a plain black skirt that's just slightly above my knees. black and white striped socks, my hair up, my plain black hoodie. i pass the dress code at the high school in this outfit. excluding my hands and face i'm exposing two knees' worth of skin, not that much. i look fine. i like the way i look.

I LIKE THE WAY I LOOK.

I FEEL LIKE I'M FUCKING TWELVE YEARS OLD THAT I HAVE TO REAFFIRM THAT TO MYSELF IN THE FACE OF MY LITTLE FUCKING SISTER BEING A BITCH. JUST FUCKING BE NICE TO ME I LEAVE YOU ALONE WHY THE FUCK IS IT SO HARD TO LEAVE ME ALONE.

if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
JOBJOBJOB
interviewinterviewinterview
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start
(& etc)