Losing Myself
So I'm losing self right now but not in that stereotypical teenage angst way but in a real grown up way; I'm not trying to sound concieded. But I know teenage angst and this isn't it.
I'm not trying to make myself any mightier than everyone else because I'm not and I would be the first one to admit that.
And I just feel like I'm faking everything, that maybe I really am in denial, the kind where it gets really deep that you don't think you have the strength to ever fix it. But isn't that what denial is in the first place?
I have more to say but my words are sort of lacking right now because I'm getting bored with myself.
I'm getting bored with myself.
Yesterday my mom called me upstairs and she pointed to the toilet.
What is this?
A cigarette butt.
Have you been smoking?
Obviously. How else would it get there?
Don't be smart.
I'm not.
...Why?
'Cause I hate this place.
Fine. I don't care what you do to your lungs. (pause) Were you on drugs when you came home that one night really sick?
No. (Yes) We're in St. Charles, Mom. Where the fuck am I going to get drugs? This is stuck-up snobby central and too goody goody for words. I have no connections here.
Fine.
Bye.
So I went back downstairs to watch old reruns of Family Matters on a friday night when I heard her smashing plates in the kitchen, trying to put them away.
Whatever.
What I learned: Flush the toilet.
I remember what Beth told me yesterday when she was by locker at school; she was staring at the pictures of me and my friends, pictures of me hugging a locker with a friend behind me, smiling real goofy, pictures of me and Scott holding each other real tight and looking at each other, like there is nothing else in the entire picure, nothing else but us in that moment, like nothing could touch us 'cause nothing else mattered. I should take those down. And she stared at them for a good 5 minutes and then looked at me.
I can see it.
See what?
You're eyes, they're different. I don't see that kind of flare in you here. (points to pictures) See that right there? Look at your face; it's different.
(Silent)
You looked happy.
(Silent) (I was)
Well, I gotta go. I'm going to rehearse in the auditorium for my one-act plays.
(Silent)
Bye May (waves)
(Silent)
I really don't feel anything even though I've thought about what she said. And maybe it is true but what the fuck am I suppose to do about it? I didn't even know that I looked different.
I told you I'm losing myself, I told you that that Old May is dying, or might even be dead, the one that you would have been proud to know, so goodbye ...and here I go.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Note: If you want to know, some of my past, some of who I was that would try to make sense of the words I've been trying to convey in this diary. I'll give a password for ndslotesse. I have the right to refuse to give it to you though. If you want it... tell me why.