2004-12-28 - 9:06 p.m.

goth diaries new year

Wow- I gotta quit reading diaries by people who portray themselves as fellow goth kids. There's so much pretention in that scene, and everyone says they "hate posers" and "hear voices" and "love darkness." I know, I know, that's what it's all about, but I find it impossibly tiring. You know it is leagal to wear ungodly quantities of eyeliner and yet not fake affliction!
I assure you, sad, 13-year-old-small-town-goth-chick-who's-diary-I-was-just-reading, your problems are not an eighteenth as big as you think they are. Not only that, but you're either not as schitzophrenic as you think you are, or you need to get help- FUCKING NOW. *sigh* I'm so on a crusade against the glamorization of mental illness, and yet I'm still madly in love with my new black lace skull trimmed corset. I, for one, do not find these two facts irreconcilable. Being sick is not pretty, but being pretty is, and I don't mean that in a prissy way. There is so much beauty in the world! You don't have to pretend to have something wrong with you to be part of it! I know it sounds cheesy, but JUST FUCKING BE YOURSELF!!!

As I rant this you should know that it's both being directed to these unnamed kids who will never hear it, but also to my former self. God knows I was a melodramatic little teen. God knows I thought the world began and ended in a mud puddle of my own (albeit exagerated) sorrow. Sometimes I want to go back in time and shake my younger self violently. "Get over yourself!" I want to tell her, but of course that isn't an option. Instead, my past is such as it is, and my sister is submitting as her college entrance essay a short piece about how her crazy, drug addled older sister's experiences have convinced her to sitck to the straight-and-narrow. At least some good could come of those tumultous years!

Anyway, I went to see Jason in Austin today. He was really tired because of his reccurent insomina. He didnn't sleep at all last night, so he understandably was ready to pass out on the couch he uses for a bed by mid-afternoon. I wholeheartedly forgive him, especially with the knowledge that he will be coming down to San Marcos to spend New Year's Eve with me in just a couple of days. We're not having a party or anything (at least not in the conventional sense). It'll just be me, him, a bottle of VERY cheap champagne, and the clock as it ticks. I hope to engage in the cliche midnight kiss and then fall blissfully asleep. Now THAT'S a nice way to begin a year.

The last thing I wrote before this thing. The next thing I wrote after this.