Intoxication

Again, another couple of months have flown by since the last time I submitted an entry to this blog. I’m sorry, for anyone who bothered keeping up with me through here. I just… haven’t really had the heart to writing at all, I suppose. It’s been a little hard for me to write at all for a good half year now. Maybe I should write here more often to get over that block? It’s something I could consider. With Christmas vacation only a day away, I guess I could spare a little time to write every day or two.

Jay and I are still very close friends, no matter the insane things I feel like I impose on him. He’s always willing to listen to my crazy stories, night or day. He’s really… the most amazing friend I’ve ever had, no matter how little he thinks of himself sometimes. Since this summer, I’ve only seen him once, but we talk almost every day. It’s rare, though, when he comes to me on MSN before I have the chance to go to him. I guess that participates in the feeling of guilt that comes from the fact that I think I’m forcing myself on him(no matter his saying the opposite just about a million times).

School wasn’t nearly as bad as I was sure it was going to be, too. A lot more people are coming to me and talking to me, people I otherwise would have never talked to because they just so much higher and better than me. Guys are even coming towards me, something that… really hasn’t happened at all since Martin came along–speaking of which, I really need to see him soon. It’s odd to have so many ’strangers’ talk to me. And mostly it’s because they notice me drawing, since that’s nearly all I do during class(don’t worry, I listen and follow the teacher too). Like, today, in math class, this guy I never thought I would ever talk to just suddenly started gaping at the drawings in my agenda. And anyone who knows my art knows that what’s in my school planner is nothing compared to the work I usually do. Even Catherine, whom I’ve known since the 7th grade but have never really talked to, started to just… gush on about how amazing I was. This other girl, who also seems way above me, started to say how one day I would get famous, how girls would wear T-shirts with my name on the tag and how I’d eventually replace Volcom and become the next major brand of clothing everyone knew and wore. I was… baffled. Because the day before, I heard that someone hated me–genine hate, with the desire to mutilate an all–for being a good artist, because they thought I was a little star and everyone liked me andI spoke to everyone. I should really talk to him, but it’s really hard… Maybe after the holidays.

I had an incident with Val this summer, too. That was pretty… Attrocious, to say the least. It was a pretty nasty chain of events that I’ll definately know to avoid next time. Long story short I seriously thought about killing myself. But I didn’t so yay me. I also started seeing the social  worker after that, because I considered that I couldn’t deal with the pain, stress and guilt alone.

Speaking of the social worker, I should go see her, too, after the holidays. I have a feeling I’ll need to talk to her a lot. Christmas won’t be the same this year, after all, and nostalgia and melancholy are going to be very invasive emotions in the mext month or two. But, at least I getto go to Florida during my spring break, which is pretty neat.

I also got a graphic tablet, thanks to my brother. I think it took a little convincing from my parents before he would give it to me, but after all, he didn’t use it anymore. And if he ever wants it back, I’ll be happy to hand it over and just ask for it next time I need it.
Irony of the thing is that my brother pretty much called me a useless freeloader a few days ago–which…. well probably isn’t ENTIRE false, but not necessarily completely true either. Not to mention having him tell me that was a little hypocritical. But, oh well. I got over it.
My art’s gotten better recently, too. I’ve beginning to be a lot more proud and a lot less depressed. I’m starting to think that I’m actually good, no matter how better a lot of other people are. I think Jay would be proud of me for saying that. But, I won’t tell him I did. After all… I don’t have to tell him everything, right? Like I didn’t tell him I smoked weed, or that I’ve picked up smoking as a bi-weekly habbit. No, no I shouldn’t tell him that. Because it’s something that’ll go away eventually. He’s all the support and reason I need to stop. Alon with my mom and Fred and Jess–who lost her mother, by the way. I cried for ages at the funeral.

Well, I think I have to get up early tomorrow, but since I might afford to miss first period I guess I could go to bed later than usual…

Thanks much for reading. c: